The Traveling Bard
by Surveyed
Summary: Olive's been back and forth across the wastes countless times, but when her alter-ego purchases Charon on a whim, things get interesting. Will she get over her fear of ghouls and take him back to the Mojave with her or try to get rid of him?
1. Chapter 1

"He's awful big."

The bartender snorted and moved the cigarette to the corner of his cracked mouth. "You're awful small, Smoothskin."

"Two-Thousand caps?"

"Two-Thousand caps."

Charon tried his best to ignore his employer and the Smoothskin at the bar, but the prospect of leaving Underworld made his heart pump extra hard. He'd been stuck here working for Ahzrukhal for the past ten years and during that time, he'd only been allowed outside those large double doors twice. Once to permanently remove some low-life scum from Ahzrukhal's presence. The other was while chasing down a bar patron who stole a partial shipment of Jet.

Two-Thousand caps, though. That was a lot of soda.

The Smoothskin gave a long glance over his way, as if studying him like one would a horse – if any had still existed. This Smoothskin was a young female, no more than twenty years old, with tanned skin and pixie-cut dirt colored hair. Her eyes were dark brown and seemed to look straight into him with piercing agony.

Finally, she turned back to Ahzrukhal and sighed with annoyance before reaching into the bag at her feet. "If Olive was here, she could probably get you down to one-thousand caps, but fuck it. Once she sees what I bought, she'll flip." She gave the barkeep a nasty grin before dropping two large and chinking bags on the bar before her. "Olive is horrified of Ghouls."

Ahzrukhal chuckled and began counting the caps.

"Anything special I should know?"

The ghoul glanced Charon's way before shrugging. "He's been programed to defend himself from attackers – including his employer. Though, from my experience, and from word of the person I bought Charon from, his training only kicks in if you're trying to seriously harm him. A good right hook will sure as fuck grab his attention, but he won't attack back. If you do provoke him, pray to your feeble god he stops before you die."

Once Ahzrukhal was certain there was the agreed upon amount, he produced a dirty, folded piece of paper that Charon was quite familiar with. It had yellowed with age and appeared to have plenty of blood on it but it was still the contract that held his entire existence.

The girl hopped off the bar stool and went straight for Charon. She didn't wait for him to speak or even turn towards her, for as soon as she was beside him, she slapped the paper down on the table. "I own you now. Get your shit and let's get out of this cesspool."

Charon looked over to the bar where Ahzrukhal was recounting the caps and organizing them into colors and brands. It seemed a legitimate trade and the Smoothskin did have his contract. Before he left, though... "One moment. I have to do something first."

The girl's eyes narrowed and she growled, "Make it snappy."

The Ghoul nodded and approached Ahzrukhal. As he approached, the barkeep looked up only to come eye-to-barrel with a shotgun.

A loud retort went off and bits of the Ghoul's head went flying.

Everyone in the bar scattered and fled outside, screaming and covering their heads. One patron knocked over his table and dived behind it, peaking over the edge with a shaking 9mm pistol in hand.

To Charon's amazement, his new employer merely gave him a foul look and flicked some pieces of brain-matter from her shoulder. "You better not make this a habit," she stated coldly before hopping behind the bar. The floor was slick with blood and brains, but she managed to grab Ahzrukhal and flip him over onto his back. "Gather up those caps on the bar and any cash from the register. Also, where does he keep his med stash?"

Charon did as he was told, scooping the caps back into their bags and adding what was in the register. "He keeps everything in the safe in the wall. The key is in his inner coat pocket. There's also some liquor in the refrigerator."

The girl found the key and quickly opened the safe. Without looking, she scooped out everything and soon did the same for the fridge. "Gotta go. Gotta go. Gotta go," she mumbled, grabbing Charon's arm. "I do not want to get shot by that robot."

Before she opened the door, Charon stopped her and peaked out himself. Everything was silent and no one was to be seen. Even the guard dog robot appeared absent. "Looks clear. It's night so only the druggies are awake." He inched out into the hallway and peaked over the ledge to see downstairs. The robot was powered down at his station.

"Yep, looks clear. We should..." Charon turned back to look behind him, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. "Fuck." The Ghoul jumped back from the edge, whipping his head around, only to see a trail of bloody boot-prints leading down the stairway.

"Will you hurry up, damn-it?" The Smoothskin called back up the steps.

One last glance down at the robot and Charon left Underworld for the third time in ten years.


	2. Chapter 2

Charon sat with his back against the door in the small storeroom. His Smoothskin had chosen to stay in the Museum of History and find a safe, small room in the Abraham Lincoln part of the Museum. It turns out his new employer had a few tricks up her sleeve when it came to dealing with feral ghouls. Somewhere along her travels, she had acquired a facial mask made of ghoul flesh. He didn't know where she got it – nor did he care to ask – but it proved to be highly useful when navigating the ghoul infested museum. She had found this room and ordered him to take watch while she rested.

She had also given out a few odd commands. The weirdest was: "Don't tell me where I put your contract and don't tell me where I got you from." She then hid the contract in a Guns and Ammo magazine. To make it more confusing, she had left all of her weapons sitting next to him. She seemed to find this act highly amusing.

For the past five hours, the Smoothskin had been tossing and turning in her sleep. Charon, though, had no desire to wake her from whatever nightmare she seemed to be having. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts.

What would happen now? What kind of person owned him? He squinted across the room at the shadowy bundle on the floor. She didn't seem to be all that evil, yet she was no saint. That much he could tell just by her reaction to him killing Ahzrukhal. She also had no qualms with looting the dead. The old saying 'they can't take it with them' floated through his head.

She also wasn't half bad looking. She looked well bred, well fed, and clean – not common traits for Smoothskins found in the Capital Wasteland. He half expected to see a Pipboy on her left arm, but there was none. From what he'd heard, those things took a lot of effort to get them off a person. Stories were that raiders coming across a vaultie would chop the arm off in order to get at the Pipboy.

So if not from a vault, where in the wasteland could this girl have come from? Rivet City was a possibility. With all that water around, the residents tended to be relatively clean and there was certainly no shortage of food there. Only one problem: those from Rivet City tended not to leave the safety of their ship – much less venture all the way into the city to Underworld.

Behind her words was also a slight hint of an accent. Accents weren't something that was easily gained...

His Smoothskin began to stir so Charon came back down to ruined Earth. She sat up and rubbed her face, freezing when she saw Charon's shadowy outline on the other side of the small room.

"H-Hello?" said a voice that was not the same as his Smoothskin's.

* * *

Olive didn't take her eyes off the shadowy figure a few feet away from her. She wasn't sure who it was and she prayed to every god in existence that it was nothing more than a mannequin Ely had put up to scare her. It was a big mannequin and unlike many found, it appeared to be male. It had something that looked very much like leather armor on and it didn't have hair. The room also smelled like stale water and dirt, but as far as Olive knew, the smell might be coming from her and not the mannequin.

The mannequin shifted its weight slightly and tilted his head to the side. The slight tilt of the head brought the skin over into the dim beam of light coming in from the doorway.

It was a ghoul.

Olive exploded in movement. She grabbed the blanket she had been sleeping on and threw it at the ghoul. In the same movement, she rolled backwards, feeling around in the darkness for a weapon, but finding none. Instead, due to her blindness in the dark, she slammed into a steel shelf. The force of her body was enough to cause the two-hundred year old rusted metal to come crashing down upon her.

Charon wasn't sure what was louder – the crash of the metal falling apart and hitting the floor, or the shriek his new employer made. He disentangled himself from the thrown blanket just in time to slam his body against the door in order to stop a feral ghoul's attempt to get in. Another growl and scrapping hands joined the ghoul outside. Charon knew he had to make sure his employer was alright, but at the same time, he needed to protect her from the ferals.

He decided upon first killing the things trying to eat her. Charon whipped his shotgun out, threw the door open, and let out two quick shots. Both ferals in the hallway were thrown backwards – large gaping holes in their chests. The ghoul didn't make sure they were dead, he slammed the door shut and braced his body against it again while shuffling around in the dark for a battery and lantern his Smoothskin had placed out earlier. With a flip of a switch, light flooded the room, temporarily blinding the ghoul. Charon blinked the floating blobs from his vision and turned to assess his employer's situation.

Blood. There was blood on the floor. A lot of blood.

Charon yanked a large portion of the steel shelf from on top his crumpled Smoothskin and braced the door with it. It wouldn't hold for long, but it would give him enough time to grab his gun before something came barreling into the small room. With this large section off, the ghoul could see just where his Smoothskin was damaged at. A tubular piece of the shelf had broken off and stabbed itself deep into the girl's back.

"Stay very still," he told her. "The more you move, the more blood you will lose." Charon knew his words were probably pointless. Panicking people did not tend to listen to reason. Still, talking often gave them something to focus on other than the fact that they had a steel pipe jutting from their body.

Instead of asking where stuff was, the ghoul turned his employer's bag upside down and dumped everything out. An official-looking hard container labeled "Medical" fell out and slid against the wall. Charon opened this and found it stocked full of Med-X, Stimpax, bandages, scalpels, surgical tubing, empty syringes, leather belts, and two of every narcotic. Grabbing the Med-X, he stabbed two helpings into the girl's back, right around where the pipe was. To Charon's amazement, the Smoothskin was staying very still and doing nothing more than whimpering and shaking.

"I'm going to pull it out," Charon said slowly and clearly. "I need you to stay very, very still. It's going to hurt, but I've given you some Med-X to help. I need you to not scream. If you scream, you'll attract more ferals. Do you understand?"

The girl nodded.

Nodding to himself, Charon held a Stimpax in one hand and wrapped his other around the pipe. She whimpered when he touched it and he knew she was going to scream. He would need to make this very fast if he wanted to deal with the ghouls that would be coming. The ghoul did not give her any warning before yanking the bar out and stabbing the Stimpax needle in. Instead of the scream he expected, his employer made more of a strangled gurgle before falling limp.

The ghoul quickly injected three more Stimpax and examined the girl to make sure she had no more injuries. Besides a few rapidly healing scratches, she appeared fine.

Charon wiped the blood from his hands and slowly let out a deep breath. The event had been so sudden that he was surprised he had thought of using Med-X before removing the pipe. Auto-pilot had kicked in and all the years of dressing wounds had made it surprisingly simple.

The girl suddenly began to regain consciousness. "Oh, here we go," Charon mumbled to himself.

Olive tried to sit up, but her hands slipped on the bloody floor.

"Easy, now," the ghoul whispered, catching the girl and carefully helping her sit up.

Though not sure what was going on or who this ghoul stranger was, Olive was too weak to attempt to fight him and gladly accepted the helping hand. "Who are you?"

Charon looked into his employer's face and froze at what he saw. Her eyes were different. He wasn't sure if it was the lighting, her blood loss, or just her fear, but her eyes looked drastically different than they had earlier. The color had not changed, but they seemed more round and innocent. "You must have a concussion," he mumbled. "Your pupils are dilated and your recent memory has gone to the crapper."

"Who are you?" Olive demanded in a sterner tone this time.

"My name is Charon. You bought me last night."

The girl shook her head violently. "No, no, no. I would never have bought a ghoul. Never."

Holding out his arms, Charon chuckled, "Well, news flash, Smoothskin, you did."

Olive paused suddenly, and a look of comprehension crossed her face. Charon figured her memory had finally kicked in. "Ely," she stated with accusation. "Ely bought you, didn't she? She knows I hate ghouls. She knows it and I bet she bought you just to torture me."

Now it was Charon's turn to be confused. "Who?"

"Ely! That bitch. I try to be nice to her but she always insists on doing stupid things like this." The girl pointed at Charon. "Where did I buy you at? I'm taking you back there to get my money back and return you."

The ghoul sat back and scratched his cheek. "Yeah, you must have hit your head really hard when that shelf came down."

"No, I'm fine. Now tell me where I got you from. We're going back."

"I can't tell you," Charon admitted. "You ordered me not to tell you where you bought me at and to disregard any orders where you might ask where you bought me from."

The girl closed her eyes and rubbed her head. What he just said didn't make any sense to her, but she knew Ely was behind it. She also knew Ely was not good at making contracts and often left unforeseen loopholes in them. Olive was good with talking and dealing with people. Ely was only good at killing them.

Olive may not have liked ghouls, but she knew it wasn't this slave's fault that he had been mixed up in her personal squabble. "You're free."

Charon just stared at her.

"I bought you from a slaver, right? Then I can do with you as I please. I'm giving you your freedom. Go do whatever you want." Olive pointed to her supplies spread all over the floor. "I can give you supplies and caps for your travel. I know there's a ghoul city somewhere by the Washington Monument, or you can always go to Tenpenny Tower. Ely helped some ghouls kill the inhabitants of Tenpenny Tower so they could live there. If you tell them Ely sent you, then they should let you in just fine."

The ghoul shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. I can't be free. I always require an employer."

"Ely only got you to screw with my head!" Olive yelled at the ghoul, tears popping into her eyes. "I don't like ghouls! I'm horrified of ghouls!" She threw a random piece of junk at him and screamed, "I think they're disgusting and filthy and should all die!" Sobbing, she fell back, pulled her knees up to her chest, and buried her face in her arms, crying heavily.

Charon moved back towards the door, giving the Smoothskin some room. He'd had people yell stuff like that at him before, so it did not bother him. He was more worried about the girl's new mental state. Something during the past five or six hours had caused her mind to crack. Having a mentally unstable employer was not something the ghoul wanted to experience again. Been there, done that.

The ghoul began to absently gather the displaced supplies. Most of it was relatively organized, such as the medical case he came across earlier. One bundle held some spare clothing wrapped around half a dozen magazines and books. A separate, smaller bag clinked with what sounded like scrap. There were also two metal ammo cases, snapped shut and water tight. He opened these to see what the Smoothskin kept inside them. One was clearly labeled "Olive" and it held sniper rifle rounds and a lot of .32 ammo. The second case had the name "Ely" scrawled carelessly on the side and it held 5.56 rounds and ammo for a shotgun. Shrugging, Charon set the two cases aside and began to pick through the rest that littered the floor. Much of the unorganized supplies were the goods his Smoothkin had taken from Ahzrukhal. Alcohol, water, meds, ammo, a 9mm handgun, some food, a wig, and some extra scrap someone had traded for booze. Charon began separating everything out into neat little piles.

"You can toss the camera and the scrap metal," the Smoothskin mumbled quietly. "Unless you have a use for it."

The ghoul set the unwanted scrap aside and rolled a bottle of purified water across the floor. It bumped into the girl's foot and started to roll back, but she grabbed it before it could get away. "I'm sorry for what I said," she mumbled shyly, staring at the bottle as she twisted the top off.

Charon shrugged. "I've heard it all before."

"Still, it wasn't appropriate. I'm sorry."

The ghoul wasn't sure how to reply. No employer had ever offered an apology for anything done or said to him – at least not an apology that was heart-felt.

"It's Charon, right? My name's Olive."

His Smoothskin now had a name: Olive. It was an old name and a very popular one before the war. Charon never understood why someone would name their child after a form of food – especially in today's world where cannibals were common. The ghoul had not seen an olive in about one-hundred years. The last batch he ran across had come from an unmarked can he had opened. Well, he guessed he was looking at an olive now, just not the type someone would put in their martini.

The girl shifted uncomfortably, trying her best to focus on her bottle of water while also keeping an eye on the ghoul. It occurred to Charon that he had her cornered and cornered creatures were dangerous and unpredictable. The two should relocate to a more open area. The less stress, the less Olive's mind would crack. "Are you strong enough to move?" Charon asked, shoving everything back in her bag without care for organization.

"Yeah."

The ghoul nodded and tossed the flesh mask at his employer. "We're in a feral-infested area, and that mask will be a great help in getting us out of here without wasting ammo."

She stared in horror at the mask in her hands before shivering and putting it on. She was obviously revolted by the object and Charon knew that wearing it would cause more stress. _Fuck it_, he thought. _Once we get out of here, I can see about putting Humpty Dumpty back together again._

"You going to be okay with a gun?" he asked, concerned that she might start shooting him.

Olive stood up, bracing herself against the wall. "Just get me a hunting rifle and I'll be fine."

Charon shouldered her bag and handed over a hunting rifle with some extra ammo. "I'm not sure how well that mask works, so stay close. If I start going too fast for you, just let me know. We're not too far in here but there could be a lot of ferals between us and the exit."

"Just don't shoot the ferals and we should be fine," the Smoothskin mumbled, checking her rifle over. "And you stay behind me. Ely got you into this mess and I won't let you get hurt because of her."

It was an order – a weak one – but an order nonetheless. Charon nodded and stepped away from the door, waiting for Olive to go first. She seemed stable on her feet so he guessed the Stimpax had done its job and fixed her up nicely. Weakness from blood loss was probably still a problem, but she appeared in decent health. As long as she wasn't too active, the Stimpax would keep her going long enough for her body to catch up on the missing blood.

The Smoothskin skittered across the small room, taking a wide birth around Charon, and opened the door. Nothing moved in the hallway so she inched out the door and towards the two ferals Charon had blown holes in earlier.

"Take the first right, go down the steps, and out the double doors straight ahead," the ghoul directed. "We really are not that far in here. Just be careful about the turret. It takes pop-shots on anything it sees but you have to get pretty close."

To his amazement, the girl obeyed his directions and the trip back through the museum was very uneventful. They passed a few ferals who didn't so much as look at them and it wasn't long before Charon was pushing open the double doors to the entryway of the Museum. To his left was Underworld and Charon wasted no time in herding the Smoothskin away from the ghoul city.

"Oh, no!" Olive suddenly half screamed, shoving her hunting rifle into Charon's arms before darting across the room. "No, no, no, no!"

The ghoul juggled the new weapon and darted after her. Whatever it was that had got her attention, it was more important than her fear of ghouls. He circled the Wooly Mammoth and immediately slowed to a trot, his heart calming down to the normal rate. The Smoothskin was kneeling beside the half-fallen skeleton of the T-Rex and appeared highly distressed by it.

"Don't worry, Smoothskin, the thing won't bite."

Olive gave the ghoul a dirty look and continued to stroke the giant skull of the dinosaur. After a long moment, the girl spoke. "My mother used to work here when I was a kid," she said quietly, sadly. "Mom often brought me when she had to work weekends. The T-Rex was my favorite exhibit. They used to have it fighting a Triceratops but then the Smithsonian decided that it would be a better opener to the museum and nab everyone's attention right away."

The ghoul just nodded, now fully convinced that the girl in front of him had had a very harsh break with reality. Carol had told him before that the T-Rex had toppled when the bombs fell – two hundred years ago – so there was no way this girl had visited the museum when she was little.

"Come on, kid. Let's get out of here before more ghouls show up."

Olive continued to stare at the fallen colossus, brushing the dust off the skull. She suddenly wiped her eyes and Charon realized she was crying. "Tyrannosaurus lived in the Late Cretaceous." The Smoothskin looked right up at Charon, her eyes red from tears. "That makes this skeleton about sixty-five million years old. It's older than you. It's older than me. It's older than this war." She turned her gaze back to the tyrant lizard. "And I bet most people nowadays have never even heard of a T-Rex." She chuckled, wiping her eyes again. "I guess that makes the skeleton pretty safe, huh? If no one knows how valuable it is, they're less likely to take the darn thing apart and sell it piece by piece. And apparently it's done okay here. No one has torn it up, yet."

"Smoothskin," Charon kneeled beside the girl, careful not to touch her, "this area is infested with ghouls." He pointed over a door with giant skulls over it. "Through there is a city absolutely filled with ghouls, and I don't think they will be too happy with us once word gets around about what happened to Ahzrukhal."

"Who?"

The ghoul realized he was dangerously close to breaking a command. "Let's just say he's not in one piece anymore and the locals might not like that."

"Fucking Ely," Olive growled, standing up suddenly and brushing the dust from her clothing. "She always does shit like this. She generally leaves a note, though, so I have some form of heads up."

Charon stuck his hand in his armor and pulled out a dirty piece of paper. "You gave me this before you went to sleep. Maybe it will help. I'll give it to you once we're outside. Too dark to read it in here."

The girl followed him like a dog after a treat, reaching out for the paper but Charon kept it easily out of her reach. He was 6'5" while the girl couldn't have been more than 5'. "Let me read it!" she whined, jumping in an attempt to reach his outstretched hand. Charon made a beeline for the exit and once they were outside, allowed the girl to have the note.

"Heads up, Whimpy," Olive read aloud. "Do us both a favor and stay away from Underworld for a while. Also, since you suck so bad, I bought you a bodyguard. His name's Charon and he'll do just about anything you order him to. I've given him some basic starting orders so you can't take him back from wherever it was I bought him. Give him food, water, and occasionally let him outside to do his business and I'm sure the two of you will get along great. Do NOT attempt to get rid of him. When I'm not around, you're as weak as a newborn kitten. Do I need to remind you about the raider mess you got us into? I do not want a repeat of that. Signed: Ely."

Charon stared at the girl, now not sure what he should be thinking. The girl had written that note right in front of him, but it had been written to Olive from Ely. Olive kept saying how it was Ely who had bought him. The only person he had met was Olive. No one else had stumbled across the pair since they left Underworld. Charon had just been assuming that the girl had lost her memory and Ely was someone she generally hung around with and blamed everything on. What if...

The ghoul shook his head violently, shaking the thoughts away. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. "Who the fuck is Ely?"

Olive was reading the note over again and didn't bother to look up to answer the question. "Ely was the person who bought you."

"You bought me," Charon said slowly and clearly, emphasizing each word.

The girl did look up at this. "No, no, no. Me, Olive," she pointed to head, "did not buy you. Ely," this time she pointed to her chest, "bought you."

Charon huffed and rubbed his head in frustration. She was not making any sense. "You bought me."

"I didn't!"

"Smoothskin, you tossed over the two-thousand caps to purchase me. It was you and no one else."

Olive started to yell again that she didn't, but suddenly gagged on her words. "Two...Two-thousand caps?"

Charon nodded.

"No," the girl stated sternly. "Ely knows we were saving those caps for that house in Megaton. We need three-thousand and last I checked, we were only six-hundred caps shy. She wouldn't have spent them all."

"You got the caps back," Charon said simply. "My old employer had an unfortunate accident that allowed you to take the payment back."

"Ely stole you?" She screamed.

The ghoul winced and drastically wanted to change the subject away from where she had bought him. "You purchased me and then took the caps back when my old employer died. Can't take it with you, and all that."

"Ely bought you."

Charon wanted to scream and throttle the girl, but a raspy chuckle caused him to spin about, shotgun ready.

"You two are more entertaining than night time TV," Willow chuckled, popping a cigarette in her mouth and taking a long drag. Willow was the outside guard for Underworld. Nothing ever came by to bug the small ghoul community, but she was on watch if something should arise. "I heard you two got into a bit of a scuffle with Ahzrukhal. Good riddance if you ask me."

Before Charon could stop her, Olive demanded, "What happened?"

Willow puffed out some smoke and placed a hand on her hip. "From what I heard from Quinn, Ahzrukhal made some inappropriate comment about you and Charon, so you had Charon here blow his head off. Made the world a much better place."

This was not what had happened, but it seemed to make the Smoothskin a bit more at ease. "So Ahzrukhal was scum. That makes me feel better. Still going to have to yell at Ely about it. Killing someone just because they say something rude at us isn't the way to do things."

"Who the fuck is Ely?" Charon growled.

"I already told you!"

"She's Ely," Willow said simply. "And she's also Oliver."

"Olive."

Willow puffed out some more smoke. "Olive, whatever. From what I can guess from your little exchange," the ghoul mused, "your new employer has multiple personalities going on. One's name is Olive and the other is Ely. Right now she's acting a lot different than the tourist who came through here yesterday so I'm guessing the personality entering Underworld was Ely and this one leaving is Olive."

Multiple personalities? Damn-it. Charon stared coldly at his employer before breathing out very slowly. It made a lot more sense, but this was going to make his life a bit more difficult.

Olive rubbed her head in embarrassment. "I'm the true one. Ely came in later. She's crazy."

Charon knew what would make the girl happy and, on the plus side, it would probably give him a little while to get used to his insane new employer. Also, though he didn't want to admit it, being stuck inside that bar for ten years, doing nothing but standing in the corner looking scary, had made his muscles and reflexes weak. Out in the destroyed DC wasteland, the weak never lasted long.

"Hey, Smoothskin."

The girl looked away from Willow and back up at him. "What?"

Charon chuckled, "I bet if you look in your bag, you'll discover you have over three-thousand caps."


	3. Chapter 3

Moria Brown's personality immediately grated on Charon's nerves. Hell, everyone in Megaton he'd met so far was pissing him off. First was that wanna-be-sheriff – Lucas Simms – with his stupid gun. He came strolling up on the pair, weapon at the ready, just as Charon and his employer entered the city. Simms was about to throw the ghoul right back out on his ass, but Olive did something that made Charon begin to think that the girl had a suicide wish.

The girl stormed up on the "sheriff", pushed the poised rifle aside, stood on her tippy-toes, and pointed a finger right in the older man's face. She gave him such a tongue-lashing on humanity and how his mother taught him better and how the man should be ashamed of himself, that the sheriff was speechless. Olive said that Charon was with her and her past with the town should be enough to prove that any companion with her was worthy of the same respect they showed her.

"If you have any issues with that, Sheriff," she yelled, "then I'll up and leave this town and never come back!"

Olive waited, still poised on the tips of her shoes, waiting for the sheriff to respond. After a few moments, the man backed down, mumbling an apology and putting his gun away. Sense then, no one in town had given the ghoul or his employer any grief.

"I expected him to throw us out," Charon commented on their way through town, after the incident with Simms. "What did you do to make him not want to get rid of you?"

The girl shrugged. "When I came to DC two years ago, I stumbled across Megaton pretty quick. The town was under siege from a large gang of raiders but I managed to sneak inside to see if there was anything I could do to help." The girl waved at a random passerby and began up a steel walkway. "First they didn't trust me, but I managed to convince them to at least give me a chance to help. Their sniper had recently been wounded so I offered to take his place." Olive grinned wickedly and winked at the ghoul. "The raiders thought they were safe due to it being night. They weren't expecting someone to have a fully-operational night-vision scope attached to a sniper rifle."

This made Charon chuckle. "I'm guessing you ending the siege made the locals pretty friendly?"

"That and Wolfgang and Crow were stuck in Megaton at the time. They're roaming traders," she explained. "Those two got word around DC pretty darn quick. If you're friends with the traders, just about every merchant in the area will give you discounts. So that helped a lot. I also hung around for a few months to help Megaton get back on its feet. Fixed up some holes and went on runs around the waste. They needed ammo, food, scrap, and medical supplies. The siege had pretty well destroyed all the town's surplus goods."

"If you did so much, why didn't they just give you the house that's for sale?"

Olive shrugged , pausing on the walkway to look back at the ghoul. "Simms doesn't trust me. He respects my abilities, my judgment, and my loyalty to the town, but for some reason, I rub the guy the wrong way. I think he can sense Ely. Besides, when I first showed up, the house was occupied. That kid from Vault 101 was living there."

Charon had heard of the Vaultie from 101. The kid was a crazy sonofabitch who roamed the wastes taking anything he wanted and killing those who tried to stop him. Word on the radio was the Vaultie had gotten himself snuffed when the Brotherhood of Steel retook a water treatment plant by Rivet City. He had managed to turn the purifier on, but the radiation apparently drove him mad and the kid took off – never to be seen again. Bringing clean water to the wastes was apparently enough to make everyone forget the Vault Kid's past stealing, murdering, enslaving, and raping sprees. They idolized the freak now.

"Also," Olive was saying, "apparently the place is fully furnished and still holds all the stuff the Vault Kid left. No one wants to go through it all and leaving a house empty is just silly. Moria convinced Simms to put it on the market for three-thousand caps."

This led to Charon meeting Moria Brown. Moria was a store owner and insane tinkerer who immediately showed an interest in Charon's ghoulish condition. For starters, she wanted the ghoul to strip so she could properly diagram him and compare his morphology to that of a Smoothskin's.

Fuck no.

It took a good ten minutes before his employer could get Moria's mind solely on the house for sale and not on how to properly tell if certain bodily functions were still present in a ghoulified person.

There was a quick exchange of caps for a small, rusty key and the whole ordeal was over.

"Come on back if you need anything, or if you find anything interesting in the house," Moria called after the pair as they left her shop.

Olive practically ran across the way to the house. She had a large grin on her face and kept squealing, "I finally have a house! I've never owned a house before!"

The ghoul hurried after her, forcing himself not to make eye-contact with the locals they passed by. There were a lot fewer out earlier and he guessed that Olive's appearance with a ghoul follower was something new and gossip-worthy, thus increasing the locals who just happen to be outside.

Olive made it to the house and took a deep breath, steadying her nerves before she unlocked the door. This was a big moment for her and she didn't want to rush it.

The key turned smoothly in the lock and a loud 'click' soon followed. The door slid open with a slight whine. There was no fanfare. There was no lights – no choir of singing angels. Only a dull echo and a puff of dust.

Charon's employer peered into the dim and took a shaky step forward. Unbeknownst to him as to why, the girl called out, "Hello, anyone home?"

There was a few seconds pause, followed by a robotic click, whir, and beep. "Up here, Madam," came a robotic voice from the upstairs.

"I just bought this house," Olive called up, inching across the threshold.

"Wonderful, Madam! My condensation output will be most pleased! If you can come up and let me out, I can meet you properly."

The girl relaxed and ushered Charon inside. He obeyed and dropped Olive's bag inside the door before readying his shotgun and starting up the metal stairway.

"Charon," Olive bolted up after him, "wait!"

Ordered, Charon froze in mid-step, his right toes brushing the top walkway. He gritted his teeth but waited for the girl to catch up and squeeze past him before following behind. There were two doors on this floor and based on the dim light coming from under the one closest, Charon guessed the robot was behind it.

With no caution, the girl reached for the handle and attempted to turn it. The handle jingled but didn't turn. She tried again, but with similar result.

"My apologies, Madam," the robot called through the metal door, "but Overlord locked the door in order to assure that I would not leave. I am unable to open it from this side."

Olive dropped on one knee, pulling out a screwdriver and a bobby pin from her pocket. "Why were you trying to leave?"

"Self-preservation, Madam. I am programed to defend myself. Overlord has disabled my self-defense programs and was attempting to take apart my flight control."

The lock clicked and Olive tried to push the door open, but it wouldn't go far. There was something blocking the way. She pushed harder, gaining another inch or two. "Charon," she grunted, "help, please."

The ghoul set his shotgun aside and threw his shoulder against the door. It bucked open about a foot and dozens of bottled water came pouring out into the walkway. He gritted his teeth and rammed against the door again – gaining yet another foot. Before Charon could stop her, the girl wiggled through the gap. "Fuck." He began kicking the bottles of water out of the doorway but more came pouring in. Luckily, the more bottles he kicked down the steps, the easier the door was to open and it was just a few moments before he was able to get the door open enough for him to squeeze through with his shotgun.

The first thing he noticed was the floor was covered in bottled water. The second thing was his employer kneeled down next to a cage containing a grounded Mr. Handy robot. She was busy trying to pick the lock on the cage.

"My name's Olive," the girl was telling the robot. "The ghoul over there is Charon. He's my bodyguard."

"Good to meet you, Madam! My name is Wadsworth. I am your personal butler. I shall take care of all of your household needs and, if my combat functions are repaired, I can protect the household from intruders and vermin."

Olive smiled at the robot. "First, let's just get you out of this cage and back up on your thrusters."

"My mobile functions has been damaged, Madam."

A bobby pin snapped in two and the girl cursed quietly before yanking out another one. "Charon, can you please get me my bag of scrap? I might be able to fix Wadsworth."

Charon obeyed, dashing back down the steps for the bag of junk. He did not trust the robot and was worried to leave his employer alone with it. Loud thudding and bumping suddenly came from the room upstairs and the ghoul shot back up the steps. His worry was for nothing as it was only the girl moving dozens of bottles of water out of the room.

"He ordered you to constantly pump out pure water?" She was asking the robot. "He never gave you a stopping point?"

"Correct, Madam."

She carried out another load and dumped them in the hallway. "How many are there?"

"Two-hundred and Forty-five."

"We'll have to share some with the rest of Megaton. Oh! Thank you, Charon. Can you help me get him out of the cage?" Olive took the bag from Charon and hurried into the room, pushing some of the stray bottles aside with her foot. The two managed to haul the robot out of the cage and stretch him out so the girl could look at him easier. She hunkered down and began to pry a metal plate off. The robot's eye-stalk watched her for a moment before turning to Charon and examining him.

"Looks like he just disconnected some wires," Olive announced from beneath the robot. "Give me a moment and I'll hook them back up."

There was a whooosh and the girl quickly rolled away from Wadsworth, frantically patting her now-smoldering shirt. "Shit, forgot about the automatic thrusters!"

The robot rose up on his thrusters and spun around to face Olive. "Thank you very much, Madam! I shall immediately begin domesticated duties, if you desire."

Olive shook her head. "No, you move about for a while and check that all your systems are working. I'll see about getting your weapons operational. Charon, while I'm doing that, can you run over to Moria's and ask to borrow some crates or boxes?"

"Miss, I cannot leave you alone with a possible danger."

She gave the ghoul a humorous grin. "He's programed to obey and help whomever lives here. Wadsworth," Olive turned towards the floating robot, "Will you harm Charon or I?"

"Of course not, Madam!" Exclaimed the Mr. Handy. "You obviously have the key to the residence – probably given to you by Miss Moria Brown. Miss Brown programed me to only be hostile to those who set off my intruder sensor. Also, given the time I was locked upstairs and how often the house's previous resident usually returned, I can conclude that he has either sold the house or become deceased."

"See, Charon, everything's fine. Go on now, shoo," Olive waved her hands at the ghoul, motioning for him to head on outside.


	4. Chapter 4

"I found some more Jet hidden upstairs behind the filling cabinet."

Charon sighed and pointed at a box on the table in the middle of the living room. Apparently, the Vaultie had chosen what Moria called "The Wasteland Explorer" theme. This ended up with some book shelves and a wooden pick-nick table. Currently on the table were multiple crates and boxes. Each was being filled with certain types of items. One box held every animal of the narcotic's family. Jet seemed to be the drug of choice, though. Medical supplies, ammo, gun parts, food, scrap, alcohol, water, nuka-cola, clothing, books, and lots of other random odds and ends were all placed in their own separate boxes.

Pack-rat didn't give justice to how much shit the vault kid had collected. Many random items were already boxed up and sent to Moria, the bars, Doc Church, and to Wolfgang – who just happened to be visiting Megaton that day. So far, just selling the junk had earned Olive almost ten-thousand caps. She immediately spent another one-thousand on having a bathroom added onto one side. How all the shit fit in the house was beyond Charon's grasp. The Vaultie had amazing packing abilities. The entire upstairs had been floor to ceiling stocked full of boxes, including the previously thought only bedroom. The room that had contained Wadsworth was originally thought to be a simple closet, but once all the junk and bottles were pulled out, it became clear that there were two bedrooms in the house.

This greatly relieved Olive. She was stuck with Charon and she had come to accept that on the way to Megaton, but she was still horrified of him. The few nights they had spent together on the way to the city resulted in very little sleep for either of them. Olive would only sleep if Charon was asleep and Charon refused to sleep if Olive was asleep. Needless to say, by the time the pair had arrived in Megaton, Olive was exhausted. It was only the excitement of the new house that kept her moving. The ghoul was used to not sleeping well and could have gone for a few more days before passing out cold.

"I have finished dusting the kitchen area, Madam," Wadsworth announced, puffing into the larger room, "and I have located the best structural location for the new bathroom addition to be added to. Would you like me to mark the wall for the workers?"

Olive beamed at the robot. "Yes, please."

"As you wish, Madam."

While the robot used a low-setting on his newly repaired flamethrower to mark a dark X on the wall between the kitchen outlet and a large steel locker, Olive handed Charon a box full of scrap metal. "Can you bring this to the water treatment plant? Walter will love to have this. Tell him no charge. If he's not there, just leave it inside the door."

Charon bit his tongue to hold back an angry remark. He had been sent all over Megaton and he was getting tired of being stared at by the locals. Apparently, there was another ghoul in town, and like Charon, he was owned by a Smoothskin.

The ghoul disappeared out the door, a foul look on his face, and Olive sighed. She kept sending Charon out not to parade him around as a slave, but to make sure he knew the layout of the town and the important people in them. Moriarty, The Stahl siblings, Doc Church, Moria, and Walter were the people who had a lot of pull in town. Moriarty and the Stahls because they run the local hangout joints, and nothing spreads faster than a rumor in Megaton. Doc Church because he is the local doctor and if he's on decent terms with the ghoul, the doctor may have more of a desire to spend medical supplies on healing him if anything should happen. Moria because she was the main merchant in town. Lastly, Walter and Olive were great friends and Walter had a large pull with the elderly individuals in town. If Walter liked someone, all the rest of the old folks did too. Being in control of the water had that kind of effect.

"I'm going to take some of this water over to Simms," the girl told Wadsworth. "Feel free to take a break while I'm gone. We're making great time."

"That is not necessary but thank you, Madam!"

Olive chuckled and picked up her bag. She had recently emptied it and stocked it full of bottled water for easier transportation. She also picked up two stacked crates full of bottles and hauled the loot outside. The walk wasn't far, but she did have to pause once or twice to get a better grip on the crates.

"Damn, girly, what do you have there?" Simms called from the front gate, strolling on over to intercept her at his front door.

Setting the crates down with a thud, Olive shrugged off the pack and rubbed her shoulders. "The Vault kid had the robot butler spitting purified water out left and right. Never told him to stop so Wadsworth has been pumping it out since the kid died." She waved an arm at the water. "I can't drink it all so I figured I'd give most of it to the town. You're the sheriff and if anyone can divvy it up accordingly, it would be you."

Simms nodded, picking up the two crates and motioning for Olive to follow him inside. "This is a good thing you're doing, kid. Put it all over by the steps and I'll start dividing it up right away."

"There's more back at the house that I'll bring over." She dumped the bottles from her bag and began to set them up in an organized fashion so they wouldn't be rolling all over Simms' house.

"That's fine. Bring as many as you want." The sheriff paused for a few moments before getting his nerve. "You mind if I ask you something?"

Olive didn't look up from organizing the bottles. "Sure. Anything."

"What did they do to you in that vault?"

The girl froze, every muscle in her body screaming in sudden tension. "What vault?" she said slowly.

"Whatever vault it is you came from." Simms crossed his arms and assumed a relaxed but dangerous pose. "You're too pure bred to come from some dinky town in the wastes and your mannerisms give you away as someone not from this time. You reminded me of that vault kid, but just not as sadistic. Also..." He paused for a few seconds. "I've met a you that isn't you."

Olive gripped a bottle tightly, anger rising in the depths of her chest. Ely had never mentioned any meetings with Simms. It was no wonder the sheriff had always been on the lookout for her. He had met her other half and it had obviously scared him. "What did Ely do?"

"A few months after you came here, right before I sent you to deliver that package to Rivet City, I woke to you in my bedroom." Simms shook his head at the memory. "Scared the shit out of me, girl. You sounded different, angry. You told me that the Vault kid was trying to blow up the nuke in the center of town. He had a detonator set and was on his way out but you caught him and beat the living shit out of him. You said you were telling me this so I wouldn't try jailing the 'other you'. That you were quite fond of the town and if I tried to stop you from returning, then you would drag me back to the vault and throw me in a pod for the rest of eternity."

The girl couldn't reply. It sounded just like something Ely would do. She no longer had any questions as to why Simms was cold to her or never wanted her to live in the town. He was always worried that Ely would pop out and do something.

"So I ask again," the sheriff said, "what did they do to you in that vault?"

"I don't know what they did. All I know is it left me with her. You don't have to worry, Sheriff, I'll do my best to keep her under control."

Simms nodded, seeming to accept that answer. "I figure we have folks worse in town than a girl with two people in her head. She did stop that vault kid from blowing the nuke so she's okay with me. That's all I wanted to know, so you can get back to fixing up your new place."

"Thanks, Sheriff. I'll send some more water over right away."


	5. Chapter 5

It took a full week to completely get the new house in working order. A group of men from the town had immediately set upon the new bathroom addition and Olive had running water and a working toilet and shower within three days. Simms had done his part to make sure the bathroom was finished quickly by freely spreading the bottled water around and making sure everyone knew it was from the new resident in town. Also, that the new resident had a lot of caps she wanted to put into a new addition to the house.

A new bed had also arrived. Olive liked larger beds so she had asked the town scavengers to keep an eye out for a queen sized mattress. They had found one in partially destroyed house not far away. It was a bit dirty, but after some detergent and a long while in the sun with water, the girl had it looking clean as a whistle. She was even able to fit it in her room once she moved the filing cabinet out.

The running around town – carrying boxes to people, delivering water, moving encumbering loads of weapons – all around being the good little errand boy – had done wonders for Charon's atrophying muscles. Free from the ten years stuck in Underworld, he felt stronger and more confident in his abilities. Being just tall enough to reach the bars to the second floor of the house, every night the ghoul would do pullups till his arms shook with pain. He knew it was only a matter of time before his Smoothskin went wandering back out into the wastes, and when she did, Charon would be ready to protect her from anything that so much as looked at her funny. He would not be weak.

Not like that pathetic filth, Gob.

Gob would never stop anyone from using him as their own personal punching bag. Being owned by Moriarty had made the ghoul barkeep weak and shrimp-like. Never standing up for himself, never stopping the hitting blow, never looking his attacker in the eye – Gob was not someone Charon wanted to be compared to.

Though there was one thing with Gob that confused Charon: Olive's standpoint on the enslaved ghoul. Charon never understood why, but the Smoothskin was mesmerized by Moriarty. Maybe it was his accent, his way with words, or his lifestyle, but she loved spending her free time with him. She would sit for hours, talking to the man and hearing stories from him. In exchange, it seemed as though Moriarty took a liking to the attention. He still charged Olive very cap he could and was by-in-large a perverted bastard, but the girl never seemed to mind. While she was in Moriarty's pub, though, Olive seemed to ignore Gob's plight. The girl was by no means cruel to Gob, but she rarely looked his way or asked him for a drink. Moriarty always got everything for her.

Charon figured it was due to her fear of ghouls.

She very rarely would touch her bodyguard. Even so much as a passing brush of flesh against flesh could cause her to reel back as though he'd struck her. A lot of Smoothskins were afraid of ghouls – either thinking them contagious or brain-eating zombies – but Charon felt Olive's fear ran deeper. He guessed this because sometimes he would catch her staring at him. It was not normal staring, though. There was something else behind. Something that made the ghoul's blood run cold. No one had ever stared at him the way Olive did. There was fear there – fear covered in a deep sense of dread and knowing.

"If you keep doing that, you're going to hurt yourself."

The voice snapped into Charon's consciousness in mid-pullup – halting his pondering and the exercise for the day. Olive was standing below him and next to the table, a plate of food in hand. She looked concerned and the ghoul immediately knew why. As soon as he stopped, all the muscles in his arms screamed and he began to involuntarily shake violently. How long had he been doing pullups? Charon tried to lower himself, but his muscles cramped horribly and he could no longer move his fingers.

"Charon?" The girl's voice was laced with panic. She saw his plight and immediately set the plate down, hoping up on the tabletop. To the ghoul's surprise, she wrapped her arms around his legs and pushed him up slightly, releasing the pressure on his arms. "Try to let yourself down slowly. Don't worry, I got you."

Charon felt like a fool. He was supposed to be protecting his employer but here he was unable to remove himself from a pullup without her help. Still, with the pressure off his arms, he was able to get his muscles to loosen just enough for his fingers to slacken. With his weight no longer centered on the bar but now on the girl, she staggered. Charon feared she would fall, but Olive managed to hold her ground long enough for the ghoul's feet to hit the tabletop.

Once he was down, so was she. Charon tried to grab at her, but his arms refused to move and the girl fell backwards off the table. In a flash, she was back up. "Are you alright?" she asked the ghoul.

He sighed in displeasure, staring at his limbs. "I can't move my arms."

Olive reached out, but stopped herself mere inches from his flesh. She was staring intently at Charon's skin and her hands began to shake. Her eyes, though fully on the ghoul, seemed unfocused, as if looking at something else.

"You've touched him before," she whispered so quietly that Charon almost didn't hear. "You touched him before and nothing happened." The ghoul realized when she helped him down from the bar, she had not touched his skin – merely the leather armor.

Still whispering this, as though to give her motivation, the girl's fingers came closer and closer to Charon's skin. A moment later and she was touching him.

The shiver that ran the course of her body vibrated through the ghoul. Instead of recoiling like he expected, she began to slowly move her fingers across his arm. "It's...it's so weird feeling."

Charon chuckled, finding humor in the situation. "You've never felt up a ghoul before, huh?"

To his amazement, she laughed. It was the first time he had heard her laugh and the happiness that flowed from the sound was contagious. The ghoul could not help but smile. "Though I know they shouldn't, ghouls frighten me," Olive said simply, beginning to massage Charon's right arm. "They're people, just like everyone else, but..." her words trailed off and the girl fell silent for a few seconds before finding her voice again. "Ely says I'm afraid because I think I'm a ghoul – just not in the appearance sense."

Staring at the Smoothskin girl in front of him, Charon couldn't help but chuckle. "You're no ghoul. I mean, look at yourself. You're beautiful. As long as you don't go swimming in an irradiated puddle for a week, I imagine you won't obtain any ghoulifying flesh."

She smiled and massaged just the right spot on the ghoul's arm to make the muscle go limp. The limb was no longer able to be felt, but at least it wasn't stuck in a ninety-degree angle anymore. The Smoothskin started in on the other arm. "You should be more careful when you exercise."

It was a blatant change in conversation and Charon took it in stride. "Yeah, I must have zoned out and put myself on auto-pilot."

Olive hit just the right spot again and the left arm fell limp as well. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep working out so hard." She sat back, resting her hands in her lap. "Try to move a finger."

For a second, nothing moved, but then a finger on the right hand twitched. Charon hissed in pain.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to forbid you from using your arms for at least a week." Olive's cheeks suddenly turned bright red and her eyes grew wide. "You're going to need someone to...uh...do things for you."

The ghoul clenched his jaw. "No," he said simply, "I'll be fine. I don't need anyone to help me with anything."

"Charon, your arms are completely paralyzed. If you don't let them rest, you might damage them permanently."

"I said I'll be fine!"

Olive wasn't sure what it was, but something in her chest suddenly clenched. Maybe it was his word choice or possibly his tone, but the girl felt as though she'd been struck. Dejected, she closed her eyes for a moment, mumbling, "Whatever you think," before getting up from the table and going into her room. The door shut with a loud boom and that was all she saw of the ghoul for the night.

* * *

Charon was unable to remove his armor and woke that next morning feeling cramped and aching all over. His arms hurt the most, though. They had swelled in size, but at least now had feeling in them. It was too bad the feeling was nothing but pain and try as he might, he could not get them to move even the slightest. At one point, he tried bracing his arm against a table and forcing the elbow to bend, but the two arms had swollen into straight, unmovable beams.

To make matters worse, he had to piss like a racehorse and trying to undo his pants was akin to learning to fly.

The ghoul was sitting at the table, contemplating getting Wadsworth to be his hands for him, when his employer came through the front door. She had a small box cradled gently under her arm and made a bee-line straight for Charon. "Doc Church gave me something that might help you. Now I'm ordering you to shut the fuck up, close your eyes, and don't move. I'm honestly not in the mood for anything so you either do as I say or you're on your own till your arms heal."

Charon's eyes narrowed at the Smoothskin. He was used to taking orders from his employers but this one seemed highly suspicious. Still, he could not disobey a direct order and snapped his eyes shut.

There was some rustling as the girl moved next to him and a small thud when she set the box down. "There will be a small pinch and the Doc says it might burn at first, but you're tough so I think you can handle it," Olive was saying as she rubbed something wet on his inner right arm before slapping it and rubbing the wetness on again.

Charon clenched his jaw with the anticipation of pain being worse than the pain itself. In fact, the stabbing of the needle almost made him jump in shock, but the ghoul stayed still as something thick was injected into his arm.

It burned.

Oh, Lord, did it burn. Fire seemed to erupt from the depths of his arm and it consumed his thought so much that Charon didn't even notice when she injected his other injured limb. All he was aware of were the flames creeping slowly up towards his core.

"Alright, there you go."

Opening his eyes, the ghoul looked down, seeing something that made his mind cloud into black.

Olive was holding an empty syringe of Psycho in her hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Olive awoke groggily, waves seeming to crash around in her head. She was lying sprawled on the floor in the central room. Only her right eye would open and her mouth felt caked in a dried coppery substance. The last thing she remembered was giving Charon the Psycho mix Doc Church had made. Something...something had happened after that.

"Char–" her throat filled with thick liquid and the girl violently coughed.

Blood splattered on the metal floor next to her mouth. Somehow, she had acquired a broken rib. Olive could feel it on her left side, agonizingly poking her lung, but thankfully not puncturing it.

"Charon," Olive tried again, speaking in a barely audible whisper.

Still, there was no sound other than the wheezing of her own breath. Closing an eye, she concentrated on her breathing. With every slight movement of her diaphragm, pain lanced across Olive's body. This was not the first broken rib the girl had acquired – nor was this her second. She was just thankful it had not punctured her lung like the last one did. If she had not been close to Rivet City...

Olive snapped her eye back open, not wanting to focus on the broken rib. That would only bring more pain. She needed to direct her attention at something else. Something such as: where was Charon?

Everything was fuzzy and blotchy. She was pretty certain that there was a table in front of her, but as far as she could tell, it was nothing more than a misshaped blob. Still, her good eye scanned the area, looking for a Charon-shaped blob. He had to be here. He had to.

"Wadsworth..."

"Good evening, Madam!" Wadsworth chimed from somewhere above her head, answering her call. "May I be of service?"

Olive breathed in slowly. "Where's Charon?"

"He's in the bathroom doorway, Madam."

Squinting in that direction, the girl could in fact see something blobbed out in the doorway. She could have sworn he was taller. "Is Charon injured?"

Wadsworth's blob floated on over to the bathroom. "He appears to be alive, Madam. If I may be so bold, I do believe my blaster may have stunned him exceptionally well."

The ghoul was alright – possibly injured from an energy weapon – but still breathing.

"Wadsworth..."

The robot puffed on over to the girl again, sticking an eye-stalk close to her face. "Yes, Madam?"

"Do not let anyone hurt Charon, but go get Doc. Church." Pain laced up Olive's side. "Hurry," she whispered.

* * *

It took Olive one surgery and two weeks of recovery before Doc Church let her out of bed. The doctor performed the operation in the girl's new home and accepted her desire to keep the ordeal quiet. It was a long, boring, and painful two weeks, but during the recovery, it made time for the girl to mend some bridges with Charon. The ghoul had gone on a Psycho-induced frenzy and Olive didn't blame him for the attack.

The story was different for the ghoul. He acted as though he expected his employer to up and kill him at any moment.

For the first few days, he spent the full time in the bathroom – puking his stomach dry. After three days, he finally came to Olive's call and appeared in her room, wisely carrying a bucket. He looked shell-shocked and the girl ordered him to eat and drink some water. Kicking a Psycho addiction required food and adequate rest. He didn't seem keen on the resting part, so she focused on the food.

Charon was not suffering a Psycho addition. He was suffering from training. Since he was a child, he had been trained to obey – to follow the rules in his contract. Disobedience brought punishment that far exceeded the crime.

Rule number one: Charon must protect the holder of his contract and never bring that person harm.

He had only failed in that regard once. Once was all it took to get the point across. He was thirteen at the time – years before the bombs fell. The man was his first owner, the first contract holder, the first person the young boy was supposed to protect with his life. The employer's death had not been his fault. Charon didn't see the mugger in the shadows – nor the knife he held – and only knew what had happened once it was too late.

The thief had died – skull full of 9mm – but Charon had still failed in his first contract. Not sure what to do, the boy returned to his trainers.

They tied him to a pole in the sun and beat him for nine days straight. It was only once he was pissing blood did they let him down. Deeming him unfit, they began his training again – starting from the beginning.

Starved, his trainers made Charon dependent upon the current one for food. Any extra food found resulted in severe beatings and no food for three days. The trainers told him when to eat, where to eat, and how to eat. The same was done with water – sometimes just dumping the bucket out over a patch of dirt and telling Charon to lick it up.

Sleep was the biggest factor, though. Being exhausted makes your mind slow and unfocused – but it also allows for it to be molded however a person sees fit. His trainers built Charon to do anything they ordered. To fight, to kill, to die – all at the beck and call of the one individual who held that scrap of paper.

The second time around made Charon the strongest, most loyal, and deadliest of anyone the group had ever trained. They were about to begin the retraining of all of their subjects when the bombs fell.

The ghoul didn't remember all of the training he had gone through. Most of it had been blocked out as a coping mechanism. Staring at the girl he had just beaten, though, watching her ragged breaths and her clinging to life made his mind scream. She possessed his contract. She owned him.

Charon's body heaved as ancient training memories surfaced. Memories containing fire and pain.

Once again, his head buried itself in the bucket, bring back up the small bit of cram he had just eaten.

"I'm sorry," Olive whispered.

Charon halted in his stomach purging. She was apologizing for something?

The girl sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I didn't...I didn't think before giving you the mix. Doc. Church said it would help with your muscles. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean to make you go crazy and go through withdrawal."

The ghoul wasn't sure what to do. His employer was crying. Tears meant she was upset.

"You can punish me however you like," Charon told Olive. "I can wait till you are better, if you would prefer. Give you time to think of a proper punishment."

The Smoothskin suddenly sat up, her breath hitching in her chest as pain shot through her. She cringed and held herself, breathing ragged. "If anyone gets punished, Charon, it's me." The girl looked him right in the eye, her face rimmed with tears. "It's my fault you went insane. I gave you the Psycho. You should be punishing me! I did wrong!" She yelled, reaching out and grabbing his arm. "You did nothing wrong, Charon. I am the one that should be punished."

"I can't..." Charon's words trailed off as he jumped up to grab Olive's suddenly limp form. The damn Smoothskin had over-stressed herself and passed out. After easing the frail form back down to the bed, the ghoul checked to make sure none of her wounds had re-opened before tucking the blanket gently around her. He knew from experience that if he was kind to an employer after wronging them, they often gave a much less severe punishment. The fact that she seemed to think it was her fault worried him more. Once her mind evened out, she would be even more furious for thinking that.

This situation was different, though. Sure, he had injured employers in the past – a well-placed punch here, broken bones there, but Charon knew that he could have accidentally killed this one. He wasn't going to get away with this Scott-Free. No one was stupid enough to let their slave harm them without repercussions.


	7. Chapter 7

***I must warn that this chapter becomes much more mature later on.***

"Who the fuck an I killing!"

Charon awoke with a start, jumping from his bed so fast that his legs tangled in the blanket – throwing him to the metal floor with a loud bang. Cursing quietly, he disentangled himself. The Smoothskin was awake and something had upset her. He bet it was that damn robot's fault.

The door to his room suddenly swung open, bashing into the crouching ghoul's forehead and knocking him backwards into the wall. "Fuck, Smoothskin, what's wrong?" he growled, rubbing his head. He was pretty sure she had put a dent in the metal door.

"Oh, goody. The ghoulie is still here."

Charon froze, the hand on his head blocking his view. His Smoothskin had changed. Her voice was different and he was pretty sure she was no longer Olive. It had been almost five weeks since he had seen Ely and he had actually forgotten about her split personality.

Lowering his hand, the ghoul's eyes fell on his employer. She didn't look any different – still wearing the tattered nightshirt and pants Charon had seen her in last night. Her hair was a mess, most of it swept to the side and sticking up at strange angles. When asked why she never grew it out, she always said it wasn't practical. Long hair got in the way and screamed 'I'm a girl!' Her bandages were also still there – poking out from under clothing.

Ely crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door frame – a sly grin on her face. She waited – patient, still, deadly – waiting for Charon to finish his observations. As far as she knew, Olive or herself had never acquired a companion that knew about the two personalities or spent time with them. Granted, the few companions they had had never survived long enough to see the change, but that didn't matter. To have someone know and to see them study her – looking for some small hint of change between the two girls – was intoxicating.

"It's good to see you, Ghoulie," Ely said slowly, her eyes blinking in a seductive, deadly manner. "But I'm afraid I have more pressing matters and must cut your ogling short. Now, I'm only going to ask this once," she smiled wickedly, "who or what injured me?"

Charon's mind worked overtime. He wasn't expecting Ely to show up and ask that. Olive had told him not to tell her. She said Ely would kill him – no if, ands, or buts about it.

"A feral got you–" Charon had basically gone feral when he attacked her, "and I couldn't get to you in time."

The Smoothskin's eyes rolled and she sighed angrily. Hook, line, and sinker. "I take it Olive woke up to see you, fucking lost her mind, and ran off into the ghoul-infested museum without her guns and you?"

All she got in reply was a nod.

Rubbing her bruised side, Ely stopped leaning against the frame. "Broke a rib. I recognize the feeling. Fucking Olive. She's going to get us killed. Next thing on the agenda: where the fuck are we?"

"Your house in Megaton."

The Smoothskin looked around the small room, rubbing a finger on the door and inspecting it for dust. "She always wanted this house," Ely growled. "I don't see why. Fucking hate Megaton. It's dirty and filled with the filth of society. Roy gave me a suite but Olive doesn't like that place."

"Roy?"

Ely looked up from her dust-free finger, a bored expression on her face. "Yeah. Roy. He's a ghoul over in Ten-Penny tower. Roy is one of the few people who knows about Olive and I – though I'm pretty sure he just thinks I'm crazy. I always liked ghouls," the girl shrugged, glancing over her shoulder absentmindedly, "so I helped them get into that jewel. Olive insisted upon a peaceful solution so I let her talk everyone into letting the ghouls move in..."

Already knowing where this was going, Charon waited patiently, still sitting on the floor. He knew ghouls and humans could not get along. Hell, he had experienced it first hand on multiple occasions. Charon had got a nasty dose of radiation about two years after the bombs fell. His employer – also one of his trainers – had been fucking stupid and accidentally blew up a hidden, unexploded nuke with some poorly placed C4 and a natural gas leak. All to get through a god damned door because of a rumor about a weapons' stockpile.

The employer died about three months later – a slow and painful death that threw him into insanity. Charon suffered a different fate. It took two years before his ghoulification was complete. During those two years, he was enslaved to a merchant who stumbled across him one night. As the skin sloughed more and more from his body, the greater ferocity of punishments began. Since then, every Smoothskin employer had been more cruel than any ghoul one – even Ahzrukhal.

"The truce lasted less than a week. I came to visit and do some trading and overheard a plan in the mix." She turned back to the ghoul, watching him with piercing eyes. "The residents wanted to kill Roy and his gang of monsters. I remember what Roy said: 'If they want monsters, we'll give them monsters.' It's amazing how much devastation about a dozen ferals can do."

"They're dangerous, that's for sure," Charon agreed.

The girl turned without a word and started down the steps.

Staring at the doorway for a few moments, Charon rubbed his sore head and made a mental note about the two personalities. Olive often bounced around in her talking, using her hands and body to get her point across. She was more lively – adding emotion.

The way Ely spoke could only be described in one word: cold. She seemed bored and uninterested in the words coming out of her mouth. She also let her mind wander as she spoke, examining her environment and demonstrating that she was not interested in the conversation. The only time emotion came threw was when she was excited about hurting someone – and even then that emotion was a twisted form of pleasure.

"Good morning, Madam!"

Charon's head snapped up. Wadsworth. Wadsworth was about to get blown up and that would upset the hell out of Olive.

"Good morning, robot," Ely mumbled, a hint of amusement in her voice as Charon practically materialized next to her.

"Madam Olive enjoyed omelets in the morning," the Mr. Handy informed her, twisting around to suck up a stray bit of dust from a neighboring cabinet. "Would you care for one, Madam?"

"An omelet would be wonderful. What are you called, robot?"

"Wadsworth, Madam!" Wadsworth declared. "What title would you prefer, Madam?"

This sparked Ely and Charon's interest. "You can tell I'm not Olive?"

"Of course, Madam!" If the robot could beam with pride, Charon was sure it would be doing that now. "Though bodily the same, your brain activity is drastically different, Madam. I am programed to obey the owner of this house – which is currently you, Madam."

"You say 'Madam' a lot. I like it. You can program me into your processor as Ely."

The Mr. Handy puttered into the kitchen area. "Madam Ely it is. Good morning, Madam Ely!"

"You know, Charon, I think I could grow to like Megaton." Ely glanced sideways at the ghoul. "At least the house, anyway."

* * *

Charon did his best to keep his mind focused on re-cleaning his shotgun and the other half-dozen guns he had lying in his room. The problem was it was hard to concentrate when his employer and Leo Stahl were busy rutting on the other side of the wall.

Ely had been here for a week. Needless to say, she got bored and went out for a drink, ordering the ghoul to remain in his room. About two hours later, she'd returned with Leo, did some more drinking, and then the pair retired to the bedroom to make all kinds of noises.

The ghoul doubted this was the girl's first time. Being young, beautiful, and adventurous often led to interesting hookups – even out in the wastes. Plus the urging noises she made were not ones of an innocent virgin.

A spring leapt across the room, causing Charon to curse quietly and close his eyes in frustration. As much as he hated to admit it, the noises coming through the thin metal wall were exhilarating. Ahzrukhal had had women in his bar before – and fucked them with Charon standing in the same room. Those incidents struck him as disgusting – seeing two zombie-like creatures going at it. To hear only the noises, though. To know, but be unable to see, two Smoothskins covered in sweat and banging each other senseless made his pants tight.

Though never having had sex, Charon was not naïve. He knew what it was. Many of his employers had enjoyed the act with their lovers and he had been forced to watch on multiple occasions. Only once – about one hundred years ago – had his body reacted to the noise or sight of a coupling. He had got an erection and was severely beaten for it. Since then, none of it had ever bothered him.

But his current erection told him volumes. He guessed it was due to being stuck with Ahzrukhal for ten years. Ghoul sex just did not turn him on and he had forgotten how sexy Smoothskin women were.

Stahl made a deep groan through the wall and the noise immediately stopped.

They were done. Thank God.

A different noise soon began. Ely was angry about something and ordering her lover to leave her house right now. Stahl was protesting but after a few thumping noises, heavy footsteps raced down the stairs and Ely yelled for him to stay the fuck out.

Charon stayed in his room, sitting on the floor as he expertly fit the rogue spring back into its gun. He was trying his best to concentrate on the weapon and ignore what was happening outside his room.

Unfortunately, what was happening outside his room decided to come right on in.

The ghoul jumped in surprise as Ely threw his door open. All she was wearing was a thin sheet loosely wrapped around her body. A thin sheet that left little to the imagination as he could clearly see the darkness of her nipples and the triangle between her legs.

Ely was unpredictable, that much he pretty well knew. What he didn't expect, was just how unpredictable she was.

"Take off your clothes and lay down on the bed," she ordered, pointing at the mattress with her free hand.

Charon swallowed heavily, pretty sure he heard her wrong. There was no way she just said what he thought she did.

The girl's eyes narrowed and she took a few steps into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. "I've read through your contract and it says nothing against this. Now take off your clothes and get on the bed."

Still, the ghoul couldn't move and just stared at Ely – so she hit him.

It wasn't too hard of a punch, but it snapped his head sideways and made his mind work again. He had been ordered and he must obey.

Charon rose shakily, setting the gun aside and sliding his shirt up over his head. It got about halfway when he felt something touch his crotch, sending a bolt of pleasure up his body. Immediately, he shied away, ripping the shirt from his head.

"My, oh, my," Ely was mumbling, staring at his tented pants and licking her lips. Her stare made Charon wish his armor was still equipped. That thick layer of leather did wonders for making him feel safe and the plate covering his groin would hide his erection.

At the moment, he felt like a piece of meat on a dinner plate.

"Off with the pants," the Smoothskin ordered. "I want it all off."

"I don't..."

Ely grabbed him through the pants – grabbing and twisting viciously.

Pain. The ghoul instantly went down, crying out in agony. "Off with the fucking pants!" the girl was yelling.

Charon was obeying before his mind knew it – training overpowering any sense of reason. It was only when his back hit his bed did he realize he was fully nude and had a completely naked Smoothskin straddling his chest.

His eyes found her breasts – two firm, round orbs tipped with erect nipples that seemed to beckon his gaze. The effect was hypnotizing as her chest rose and fell with labored breathing, making his hands slowly reach out for them.

It was only when a good right hook snapped his head around did he come out of his stupor.

"I didn't say you could touch me," Ely growled. "Wadsworth! Come here and bring rope!"

Charon sat up, shaking his head and causing the girl to fall into his lap. "No. Ely, no." His mind was finally clear of the fog she had caused. "I won't do this. It's wrong. Get off."

"I said lay down."

"And I said no!" Charon yelled, shoving his employer to the foot of his bed. This was wrong. This was so very, very wrong.

"Ghoul," Ely's tone made Charon freeze, a chill running down his spine. It was an even, unemotional voice quality that his employer had – and it scared the shit out of him. "I hold your contract. You will do as I say. Now, lie down and stay put."

"I don't want to do this," Charon said, bravely remaining sitting up.

The Smoothskin crawled across his lap, bringing herself right up in his face. "You seem very disobedient for a brainwashed slave. I think you need more training. Now lie back down and putt your hands above your head."

"Ely...I've never..."

Wadsworth had arrived with a bundle of rope and Charon stared at it, his words falling apart in his mouth. She was going to tie him up. She was going to fuck him whether he wanted her to or not. She was going to rape him.

The ghoul had no sentimental value of the idea of 'the first time'. He had no dreams of finding a beautiful woman he loved, wooing her, and then spending a passionate, romantic night in each other's arms. Up to this point, Charon's first time had never once crossed his mind. He figured it would eventually happen – drunken binge with some woman he would never remember – but as the years turned into centuries, the less he cared about the act.

Now that it was right before him, though, he desperately did not want his first time to be like this. He did not want to be tied down and played with like a maypole.

"A virgin, huh?" Ely was mumbling, sadistically chuckling as she tied a strange knot in the rope. "The poor little ghoulie never got any? Hands out front, about an inch apart," she ordered.

Charon let his body go on auto-pilot, still trying to think of a way out of this mess, and stuck his hands towards her – fists loosely clenched.

"Good boy," the Smoothskin cooed, looping the strange knot over both writs before roughly tugging on it. The rope snapped taut and Ely pushed Charon down flat on his back before climbing on his chest and tying the rope to the metal of his bed frame.

"You're not going to make me tie your legs down, are you?" she whispered in his ear, making the ghoul's body shiver.

Charon swallowed heavily, his mind surfacing for a breath. "Ely, please. I'm begging you. Please don't."

"Begging won't help. Besides, it looks like you're enjoying yourself."

Looking down across his chest and between their bodies, Charon could indeed see his erection still saluting the room. He sighed, letting his head fall heavily. She was sexy. She was god-damned fucking sexy. A smooth body rubbing all over his and the fact that she wasn't rotting away – who could ask for more?

Pleasure and fear shot through him as his employer suddenly wrapped a hand around his length, giving him a tug. "No!" Charon yelled, bucking wildly in an effort to throw her off. This was not going to happen!

"Oh, rodeo time!"

Ely moved with lightning speed – shooting on top of the ghoul and clamping her legs around his waist. In one swift twist, Charon's cock was buried to the hilt inside her.

At first, the ghoul couldn't move. He had never experienced a feeling quite like this. It was so warm, so silky soft, and so tight! That sudden burst of pleasure as she sat down had stunned him, a blast of white light blinding his vision and causing spots.

Rationality fought its way through the pleasure shock and Charon quickly began tugging on the ropes and thrashing around. He needed to get Ely off of him. He was not ready for this. Especially not with an insane employer!

"Get off of me!" the ghoul yelled, throwing his hips high into the air and rolling to the side. Still, the girl was so tight and hung on. Charon feared she was so tight they would never be able to separate again – fused as one for the rest of time. He roared in anger and fear, thrashing wildly. She had to come off. She had to!

That's when he noticed the breasts again.

The more he thrashed, the more they bounced and jiggled. Also, though not wanting to admit it, the more he thrashed, the more pleasure he was generating up and down the length of his trapped member. The mixture of the two – the breasts and the pleasure – caused him to slow to a halt. The less he moved, the less pleasure she would get. The less pleasure, the more quickly Ely will get bored and leave.

Charon closed his eyes and let his body go limp.

About twenty seconds later, indescribable pain flared in his groin, causing the ghoul to double-up as best he could with a woman impaled on his dick. Ely had just grabbed his balls and gave them a twist.

"Get the fuck off me!"

The thrashing began again, only this time fueled with hatred. He no longer felt the pleasure. That sensation was overwhelmed with the pain she was shooting through his balls every time he slowed in his assault.

Charon rolled suddenly, causing Ely to throw her hands out and lean backwards. At that same time, he brought his knees up – bashing them into the flailing woman. She lost her balance and fell to the floor.

Pain was throbbing in Charon's lower extremities as he curled into the fetal position. He felt violated and angry. He hated it when employers found the chinks in his contract. There was nothing in there about sex and in two-hundred years, no employer had ever looked twice at him. Being a ghoul sure helped with that.

Rope suddenly snapped around his right ankle and the ghoul jumped, kicking wildly. Half a second later his left foot was similarly trapped and his legs pulled down at an uncomfortable angle. "Ely, stop! Fuck, that hurts!"

Ely popped up next to Charon, her breasts bouncing as she moved. "Since no one has trained you in the arts of sex, that pleasure falls to me. And oh what a pleasure it will be!"

For the next three hours, the ghoul was tortured in the art of what Ely called pleasure. He was sore, raw, and his entire body hurt from where she kept hitting him. His balls ached and he was pretty sure he was bleeding from somewhere down there. A fingernail had probably sliced his skin. The girl had ridden him, her orgasm after orgasm. He came twice and each time he did, she would lock her hands around his balls and yank – almost as if to stop him. He quickly learned that she hated it when men came.

Ely finally grew too weak to continue and crawled away back to her room – leaving the ghoul tied to his bed.

He never wanted to go through that ordeal again. Charon wanted to kill his employer. He wanted to skin her alive and slowly set her on fire, watching as the muscle dropped from her bones. The ghoul felt so violated.

And to make matters worse – the whole thing started up again that next morning, and the next, and the next...


	8. Chapter 8

Olive awoke feeling a little sore in her girly parts. A quick glance around her room revealed a man's shirt that was definitely not hers.

She sighed.

None of this was new. Ely often went out and had lust-filled escapades when she was in control. Olive just hoped it wasn't with all of Megaton. That was not a reputation she wanted.

"Ug...ow." The girl rubbed her inner thighs. They were heavily bruised – indicating that Ely's fun had lasted for many days. She would be walking funny, that's for sure.

After dressing, Olive limped out onto the catwalk. The place was dead quiet and it scared her. Where was everyone? She leaned over the railing, looking down at the first floor. "Charon? Wadsw-"

Pain exploded on the back of Olive's head and she crumpled forward before being throne to the catwalk floor. A well placed kick hit her still sore rib. "Charon!" She screamed, hoping the ghoul was in earshot and not dead. Ely had pissed someone off.

A harder kick pushed the air from her lungs – rendering the girl speechless and throwing her across the catwalk. Shocked, disoriented, and already in pain, she tried to crawl away, but a strong foot slammed down on her back – crushing the girl's chest to the floor. She wanted to scream, to call out for help, to do anything, but with no air came no sound.

The weight left her back and Olive just curled up in a ball hoping to ride the assault out. Eventually the attacker would stop. They generally always did...

The 'chunk-chunk' of a shotgun brought Olive up for air. She recognized that sound. How often had she heard it on the way to Megaton? Charon was here. Charon would save her.

Olive opened her eyes, glad the assault had stopped. She wanted to see who attacked her before Charon blew his head into a thousand pieces.

Who she saw was not who she expected.

"Ch-Charon?"

The ghoul shoved his shotgun into the Smoothskin's face, forcing it, to the girl's absolute horror, into her mouth. Olive gagged, thrashing wildly, but she was pinned to the floor by the barrel in her mouth. She grabbed it and tried to free herself, but Charon was stronger. Blood slid down the shotgun and some dripped on the girl's face. Her Olive's eyes zeroed in on the obvious wounds. The ghoul's wrists were heavily serrated from signs of bondage.

What was going on? What had happened? She tried to scream, but the metal muffled the sound – sending it reverberating up through the barrel. The ghoul shivered, applying more pressure to the gun.

She would die. Oh, yes she would die. And it would be so sweet.

Olive realized she had lost. Whatever it was Ely did, the alternate personality would never do it again. Charon was going to kill her.

Against all instinct, the girl let her body go as limp as she could, staring up at the ghoul. All she could do was pray the shot hit something vital – resulting in a quick death. She wasn't sure if Heaven or Hell still existed, but she wondered if Ely's crimes would drag her down to the fire. Did they have separate souls?

Charon stared down at his employer – his eyes locked with hers. Those brown orbs were wide and brimmed with tears. The way she stared at him – so full of horror and uncertainty – made the ghoul second-guess himself. Was this right?

Of course it was. Charon could feel the pain throbbing all through his body – especially where Ely had decided to show him how to felt to be a woman. He would never allow this woman to touch a rusted metal pipe again.

Those eyes, though. They stared at him, almost gazing through him.

A flash of memory of the morning in the ghoul-infested museum shot through his mind. Her eyes looked like that when Olive...

Charon screamed in frustration, ripping the shotgun barrel from the girl's mouth. She rolled on her side, gagging and coughing and crying.

Ely had tricked him.

He had no reason to hurt Olive – Hell, with all the torture he had gone through for the past couple days, he had forgotten she existed – and Ely knew that. She had pushed Charon to the limit and then ducked out of the ring.

The ghoul rolled his employer onto her back again. She flailed, but Charon caught her limbs and pinned them. "Don't fucking move."

Not really physically able to disobey that order with a ghoul twice her weight sitting on her chest, Olive stayed still, breathing in as many ragged breaths as she could.

"Are you Olive or Ely?" Charon lifted his weight for a second, allowing just enough air for her to speak.

"Olive!" the girl managed to choke out.

Instantly, the weight was gone from her chest and Charon began to pace the catwalk, keeping the girl trapped on the one side without a stairwell. Olive scooted into a corner and held herself, trying as best she could to hold back the panic attack that threatened to overwhelm her. Ely had done something to Charon.

"C-Charon, what happened?"

"No!" The ghoul turned and pointed his shotgun at the girl, causing her to shrink into the wall. "You will shut up. You will not speak. You will not move."

Charon began to pace again on his side of the catwalk. He was mumbling to himself, occasionally gesturing wildly in Olive's direction. Something had the ghoul riled up. Whatever Ely had done, it had cracked this statue of a man.

Placing her head between her knees, Olive began to try to regulate her breathing. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was hyperventilating. Why was Charon doing this? What had happened? What was going on? What was going on? What was going on?

What the fucking fuck was going on?

"Char-"

The ghoul stormed across the catwalk, the shotgun leading the charge. "I said shut up you fucking bitch!"

"Charon I need a bucket!" Olive screamed out quickly, her head still tightly between her legs. She was going to hurl. She could feel the familiar stomach churn.

For a second, the ghoul faltered and the two combat boots moved no closer.

"Please, Charon? I'm going to puke."

The fires raging inside Charon suddenly extinguished as he gazed upon his employer. She was trembling – her entire body occasionally convulsing. Olive's hands were balled up in her hair and her head clamped tightly between her legs. She was panting, crying, and keening softly.

He had freaked her the fuck out. The ghoul felt like he had just beaten a puppy.

"Yeah...I'll...I'll go get a bucket."


	9. Chapter 9

Olive felt it best to leave Megaton for a while. After repairing Wadsworth – Ely had taken the fission battery from the robot and was using it to zap Charon in places that the ghoul refused to let his employer go near – the pair ducked out the gates and into the familiar wastes of D.C.

The two were silent as they walked, Charon forcing Olive to lead the charge. The girl didn't know where she was going and had the distinct impression that she was an old dog the farmer was taking out to shoot. South seemed like a good direction. There were some settlements down there – mostly raiders and small bundles of settlers hoping to irk out a living.

Maybe she'd hit up the library. There might be a few books still readable in there. Could Charon...

Olive stopped, looking back over her shoulder at the ghoul. "Can you read?"

"I'm a slave, not an idiot," Charon growled angrily – but the girl sensed a touch of amusement in his tone.

"Oh, uh, sorry," the Smoothskin stammered. "I didn't know if you were a pre-war ghoul or not. A lot of people out in the wastes can't read."

Charon kept walking, circling the girl and continuing down the destroyed roadway they were following. "Being unable to read constituted a danger to my trainers. What if I couldn't read a danger sign and just let my employer walk into a Deathclaw den? What if my employer needed to leave me a note or give me silent orders?"

"It makes sense," Olive mumbled, hurrying to catch up. "Um, I really have no destination in mind. Is there any place you wanted to go?"

There was no response from the ghoul as he waited for his employer to take the lead again. Olive sighed with uncertainty. She never liked going out into the wastes without a set destination. South seemed to do okay at the start, but now she was actually getting worried. Having not explored this southern D.C. Area very much, the Smoothskin honestly wasn't sure what she would find.

Well, there would be raiders, of course. There's always raiders. You couldn't spit without it landing on one of those damned fuckers.

Olive glanced over at Charon – who was now walking beside her. Would some killing help his mood? If the pair took out some raiders, it might let him get off some steam. Whatever Ely had done, it was pretty bad.

The ghoul's eyes were darting around, seeming to memorize the landscape and scan for any form of threat. Traveling without incident was incredibly rare in today's world, and both Charon and his employer knew it was only a matter of time before something tried to eat or shoot them. With his shotgun at the ready – cocked and aimed with lightning fast reflexes – nothing would get close.

Far away was a different situation. Shotguns were only really effective over short distances. Though Ely was the one who preferred shotguns, Olive often used one against Super Mutants. Though bright Super Mutants did exist, most were as dumb as a box of rocks. Her favorite tactic against them was to get their attention then run around a corner, crouch down, and wait. About 90% of the time, they chased after and as soon as they got around the corner, they met a face full of buck-shot.

That was another thing she was going to have to fix. Charon used bird-shot in his gun. Buck-shot was much more effective and deadly. If she could find some slugs...

"There's something moving ahead," Charon announced quietly. "Something humanoid, tall, and dressed in full black. Not shinny."

"Shinny is a criteria?"

"Yeah. Sure. Why not?"

Olive found a vantage point next to the burned-out hull of a car and pulled out her sniper rifle, crouching and popping the scope cap off. "Where exactly?"

There was a long pause before Charon joined her beside the car. "Ahead of us and a little to the left."

Peering through the scope, the girl scanned the distant landscape. "I don't see anything. Are you sure it wasn't a mirage?"

Charon stared at the girl beside him. She looked like a child holding that sniper rifle – a child with an evil, filthy, and demonic side. His finger twitched on the trigger of his shotgun. One simple shot...that was all he needed. From this close, Charon could blow half her head off. She would never see it coming.

Olive continued to scan the countryside. If Charon said he saw something, she believed him – despite the nagging doubt. There was a town ahead – one with big buildings and wide streets.

Not a town, the girl corrected, more like an industrial area or a large company hub. The buildings were too big to be normal apartments and there were a lot of remnants of big trucks rusting about. Nothing was moving though. There were no signs of life.

"Strange," Olive mumbled, "this would be the perfect place for a raider colony, but I don't see anyone."

A sudden pressure against the girl's side nearly made her jump out of her skin. Charon ignored his employer's reaction and tugged her closer to him, leaning over her shoulder and pointing out before her. The shiver of disgust vibrated through Olive and passed its way across the ghoul. She swallowed heavily but composed herself, leaning her cheek against his bare arm to see exactly where he was pointing.

Something moved between the hull of a truck and a destroyed building.

"Damn!" Olive mumbled, momentarily forgetting about the ghoul flesh she was touching. "You have freaking amazing eyes. I wouldn't have caught that...from..." The girl's words trailed off. She recognized that armor. "Enclave..."

"What?"

Putting the sniper rifle back over her shoulder, Olive quickly scanned the surrounding area before grabbing Charon and giving him a tug towards a ridge of rocks. To her relief, the ghoul followed without complaint. Whatever was in that stand of buildings, his employer wanted nothing to do with it. The pair would have to go around the ruins so as not to cause a fight. That one individual wore power armor – a beefed up, electrified, metal suit that enhanced the killing machine inside it. If one person was equipped with that stuff, chances are there were others. Charon may have been stuck in Underworld for ten years, but he still remembered his last attempt to blast through a suit of power armor. Even with his specially modified shotgun and a case of slugs, it took over twenty point blank shots to get through it.

This time he didn't have slugs. Bird-shot worked well against humans and ghouls – and it was cheap. Ahzrukhal paid for his shells and saw no reason to spend extra caps on over the top ammo. Against power armor, though, bird-shot would just bounce off – even at point blank. Sure, it may dent the metal, but Charon knew he'd be long dead before his attacks did any real damage.

Olive's thoughts mirrored the ghoul's. She had met The Enclave before – even been smitten by their idealisms and desires to rebuild the world. It wasn't till after working with them for a year that she discovered that their attempt to resurrect the old world involved destroying everyone who wasn't 'pure' like themselves. They were a bunch of crazies – crazies with power armor. She did not want to tango with that.

"You've met them before?" Charon whispered as they ducked behind the rock ridge.

Olive nodded. "Yeah, about ten-fifteen years ago. Out west a ways. I thought the Brotherhood of Steel had wiped them out of the DC area, but I suppose some of them had to have survived."

The ghoul stared hard at the girl as he followed her. Ten or fifteen years ago would have placed her somewhere in the age range of five to ten years old. Children grew up fast in the Wasteland, but that was still young in his mind. To deal with The Enclave at such a tender age...no one should go through that.

"What about you?"

"Was employed to one about 50 years back," Charon admitted. "Didn't last long, but I guess I'm thankful for it."

The girl looked back at him, confusion brimming her eyes. "Why didn't they kill you? They're all about being pure."

"Guess they thought I was too useful to kill."

She giggled – an alien noise in the barren landscape. "You are one killing machine. I've seen you angry and I gotta admit I don't think I have the balls to get on your bad side. You are fucking scary."

Charon fixed his gaze on the small form slowly maneuvering its way ahead of him. All of his anger had been directed at this persona. Olive had been nothing but helpful and kind to him – even with the psycho incident. That stuff was made for military men to help them fight longer by negating muscle weakness. It had done its trick. He had attacked her after Ely's 'fun' and was still mulling over the idea of blowing her head off. Despite his actions, she didn't appear to be afraid of him. A bit cautious, yes, but he sensed that Olive held no fear of his presence.

She was too forgiving – too quick to forget. If Charon did decide to kill Olive, she probably wouldn't know why. If she knew...If she knew what Ely had done, and based on the girl's fear of ghouls, Olive would probably want to die.

Did she know?

"Smoothskin, do you and Ely communicate?"

The question caught the girl off guard. No one had ever asked that before – even those who knew about the two personalities. "You're going to think I'm crazy..."

"You have dissociative identity disorder," Charon mumbled just loud enough for the girl to hear, "of course I think you're crazy."

"Well..."

Shots rang out in the distance and the pair hunkered down, expecting their rock cover to start exploding in the barrage of bullets. Nothing impacted the rock and the unmistakable _twchoo-twchoo_ of an energy weapon responded back. The Enclave appeared to be having a 'heated discussion' with someone.

"Come on," Olive whispered. "Let's move while they're distracted."

Charon nodded and hurried after the girl. She was like a lizard when it came to scaling rocks and the ghoul found it genuinely difficult to keep up. "You never answered my question," he called ahead.

The girl slowed down so he could catch up. With the bullets going off in the distance, they didn't have to worry about The Enclave hearing them. "Well, yeah Ely and I communicate. We're not one of those cases where we don't know about the other. We..." Olive hesitated , feeling embarrassed talking about this, "we talk in our dreams."

"Your dreams?" Charon had never heard of such a thing.

Olive nodded. "Yeah. I still dream normally, but sometimes it's sessions with Ely. We mostly just chat and fill the other in on what's going on. I can also use it as a change-out session. If I need Ely to deal with the current situation, I can let her have control."

"You also leave each other notes?"

"Well, um, no actually. Well..." Olive found herself exasperated. She'd never talked about this before and her current attempt was leaving her tongue tied. "We will leave notes if it's absolutely necessary for the other to immediately know what is going on. Such as: 'Don't open the door. There's a flock of Super Mutants on the other side. The door is rigged to explode. Try to find us a way out before we die.' Having a fresh mind looking a situation over can help. Besides that, most of the time we just write everything in our notebook." She affectionately patted her bag. "Since we don't know what the other does – basically blacking out – we aren't prepared for any of the consequences. After a few disastrous situations, we both agreed to start jotting out experiences in a book. People we've met, places we've been, things we've found, stuff we've killed. That sort of thing."

Charon had seen his employer writing things in it before bed. He also knew that Ely wasn't very honest with her entries. "You know Ely lies in her writings, right?"

Olive nodded, "Of course I do. It's somewhat of an unspoken code that we don't have to express everything we did – just a good generalization. I often lie to her. Like I didn't jot down that it was you who hurt me after the psycho. I just fudged some dates so all she would know is I was somehow injured after meeting you."

The ghoul allowed himself to digest this. He was very curious about this Smoothskin but now he knew a way to get to know her and Ely better. She wasn't very protective of the notebook and the ghoul had no doubts about being able to swipe it during the night. And Charon could easily justify it as 'need to know' information.

As for right now...

Charon pointed ahead of them to what looked like a small bundle of houses on the horizon. "It'll be dark soon. We should find shelter. If no one lives there, we'll find a dark corner for the night. If it's inhabited, maybe they'll have an inn."

* * *

Light was just starting to fade as the pair entered the small bundle of homes. The place was definitely inhabited but no one was coming out to meet them.

"Put the gun away," Olive chided, "and don't look so mean." As the ghoul slung the shotgun back over his shoulder, his employer went to one of the homes and knocked on the front door. "Hello? Anyone home?"

There was no response.

"I'm really sorry if we're interrupting dinner, but my friend and I were wondering if you had a place we could stay for the night. We'll gladly pay you."

Footsteps approached the door and Olive took a few steps back, waiting patiently. People out in the wastes were very cautious and for good reason. Instead of opening the door a crack to see who was on their front steps, a balding man in a checkered red shirt threw the door open wide. "Why hello! Linda said she thought she heard someone at the door." The man stuck his hand out, "Jack Smith."

Olive couldn't help but smile. It wasn't often she met someone who welcomed her so readily – much less knew how to do a proper handshake. She grabbed his hand with her own and gave it a good shake. "Olive Hollins. Good to meet you."

"What can our humble town do for you, Ms. Hollins?"

Blushing, the girl waved her hand. "Please call me Olive. Been a very long time since anyone has used my last name."

Jack Smith beamed at her. "Olive it is! Please call me Jack. We were just getting ready to sit down for dinner. Would you and your..." Jack squinted into the darkness behind Olive, "friend like to join us?"

"Charon, come over and say hello."

The ghoul stomped up to the front door, crossing his arms and staring the shorter man down, blatantly ignoring the offered handshake.

Sighing, Olive lightly smacked the leather-covered shoulder. "I'm sorry about him. Charon's not used to using things called manners."

"Few people are," Jack mumbled. "Few people are. Anyway, you two must be exhausted! Come in! Come in! Linda, dear, set out two more plates for dinner!"

A thin, short haired woman stuck her head into the living room. "Oh! ...oh?" She stared at the ghoul, a bit unsure. "Honey..."

"Now, Linda, don't be rude. This is Olive and Charon. They're both very tired from their travels and could use a place to rest and a decent meal." Jack waved a hand up the stairway. "The two of you can have the room on the left for the night. There's a bunk bed so there will be plenty of room. Feel free to leave your things there and go get washed up for dinner. Linda made stew!"


	10. Chapter 10

"So, Olive was it? That's a beautiful name," Linda Smith was saying as she filled everyone's bowls with a deliciously smelling meat and vegetable stew. "We love having guests for dinner."

Olive beamed at the woman. Her happiness was contagious and Jack was a thrill to be around. He reminded Olive of her uncle Wallace.

"Dig in!" the husband declared.

Charon stirred the stew in his bowl, watching the contents spin about. He didn't trust these people and half expected to see razorblades mixed in with his meal. The entire stew came from the same batch the rest of the family was eating, so he knew his paranoia had no reason to exist. The ghoul just didn't trust anyone who was this happy to have guests. Something was very strange about this town.

Olive would be the first to discover exactly why the Smiths were so pleased to see them – well, her anyway. She popped a spoonful of stew in her mouth and gave it a happy chew. The taste was strange – not unpleasant by any means – but something different. Something she had tasted before. It was sweet with a slight tangy touch. It chewed nicely.

"We don't get many visitors," Jack was saying in polite conversation. "The last folks that came through were some Brotherhood of Steel folks. They came…oh…" he paused, looking up at the ceiling in thought. His face crinkled and he stared at his dinner. "I think it was two months ago. Possibly a little longer." Jack laughed suddenly, a huge smile breaking out onto his face. "But that doesn't matter now, now does it? Where are you and your friend from?"

Olive swallowed her mouthful – wiping her mouth with a table napkin. She giggled slightly at the small article of cloth. When was the last time she had used a napkin? "I'm from out West a ways. Used to be from this area, but moved west when I was younger." The girl nudged Charon's elbow as he shoved another spoonful of food into his mouth. "This big oaf here is native to the DC area."

"He doesn't talk much, does he?"

Charon glowered at the man from over the bowl of held stew. He did not like this Jack Smith. No, Charon did not.

Olive's jaw froze in mid-chew as she finally found the taste memory. It was an old one – a very, very old memory. The people had been nice there, too. They had welcomed her into their home, fed her, washed her, and then said they had a spare bed in the basement. She was so naïve then – a lamb to the slaughter. From then on, there was always a 9mm handgun tucked in the small of her back.

With the greatest willpower she had ever found, Olive forced herself to swallow to contents of her mouth. The suppression of the shiver and spinning of her stomach that followed was nothing short of heroic.

Glancing next to her, the girl could clearly see Charon mindlessly shoveling the stew into his mouth as he continued to glare at Jack. The ghoul probably couldn't even taste it.

An idea snapped into Olive's mind and she suddenly tensed, leaning backwards and patting her pants pockets.

The sudden movement about gave Charon a heart-attack and he jumped from his seat, the held bowl clattering to the table.

"Oh, god!" Olive patted herself all over. "Charon, I can't find Grandma's ring!"

The ghoul stared at the girl. He already knew she was crazy but sometimes he thought her insanity would decide to explore new lands. This was one such expedition.

Olive stood from her chair. "I am so, so sorry! I'll be right back. I must have put it in my bag. I had to have!"

His employer bolted up stairs and Charon, after a neutral look at the family, followed. The Smoothskin was up to something. This was definitely confirmed when he saw her rapidly packing their belongings and attempting to get the window open.

"Smoothskin, what's going on?"

"They're cannibals, Charon," Olive whispered, shoving a shirt into her bag. "We have to get out of here."

A disgusted chill ran up and down the ghoul's spine. "How do you know?"

"I tasted it in the stew. You never forget that taste. Never." She dug through a side pocket of her bag and then tore into the main pocket. "Where the hell is my rope? I always keep rope in here."

Charon immediately wanted a conversation change. He'd burned that rope and every other rope in the house. "We can leave through the front door. Come on."

"They're going to know. They're not going to let us leave. Charon, they have a kid!" Horror struck her. They were feeding this to their child!

"Olive," Charon grabbed the front of the girl's shirt, tugging her to him and roughly shaking, "they're fucking cannibals. They're killing and eating people. They don't deserve to live. We have to kill them. If we don't, they'll kill more people."

"But...I...they..."

A squeak of boards out in the hallway snapped Charon around, his shotgun at the ready.

"Do it," Olive whispered, covering her ears and clamping her eyes shut. She didn't want to see. She wanted to hold in the image of a perfectly, loving family for just a few more moments. The girl wanted to believe there were still good people out in the world – people who would allow strangers into their homes and care for them.

The fingers in her ears did little to muffle the shotgun retort.

The world was still good. There were nice people in it. She would find these people. She would thrive with them. Tears rolled down her cheeks as another blast soon followed.

At least she had Charon.

Olive opened her eyes to find Charon poking the still bodies of Jack and Linda with his boot. The ghoul was tall – outrageously tall with shoulders wide and strong. That used to be a good trait. 'Find a man with broad shoulders,' mother used to say. His body reminded her of the old anatomy books the school teachers made her study. The girl didn't remember the different names of all the muscles – biceps, triceps, miceps...all she could remember was a few of them had 'ceps' in them.

Charon was a ghoul. He was a human exposed to a large amount of radiation and his body began to change accordingly. The hair would be the first to go – out in large clumps – followed closely by the scabbing skin. The radiation hardened his internal muscles and organs – basically turning them to leather – but the skin was too fragile. The horrific appearance was a curse and a gift.

Ghouls were immortal.

The realization of this hit Olive like a dud missile to the chest. Ely wasn't just being a bitch – making Olive paired with a creature she was afraid of. The alternate personality wasn't just worried about their safety. She was worried about their loneliness.

Unlike everyone else in Olive's life, Charon was strong enough to take care of himself and bull-headed enough to keep her safe. Unless Ely was given another round, the ghoul would never leave her. She would forever have someone she could rely on. Someone to sit by the fire with. Someone that might understand her plight.

"Charon..."

Charon turned just in time to have Olive ram into him and embrace the large ghoul is a deep hug. He about judo-chopped her in the head, but the sobs that shook her small frame made him freeze. The girl was upset about something, again, and Charon was not sure how to fix it. He also really did not want to be touching this woman.

"I am so sorry for whatever Ely did!" Olive suddenly sobbed out. "She's crazy but I can't...I can't stop her! Please don't leave me. I don't want to be alone anymore."

Only half hearing his employer's words, Charon was instead paying attention to the sudden amount of yelling going on outside the house. There were other locals he had to deal with. The Smoothskin was in no shape or mental state to be shooting someone.

"Smoothskin," Charon pealed Olive from his armor and held her at arm's length, "stay here." He looked her right in the eye to help emphasize his words. "There are more towns-folk outside. I'm going to deal with them, and I want you to stay hidden."

"But I can help."

The ghoul shook his head. "You'll be staying right here. I'm not going to argue with you about this. You stay put, or I'm going to knock you out and hide you under the bed." Charon then left her, mouth agape, in the small bedroom. He knew she would do as he ordered. He also knew that his training had run head-first into a wall of insanity since he met this girl.

Charon felt ballsy around Olive – feeling like more of a mercenary instead of a slave. Maybe it was the ten years in Underword, or maybe it was just time for his own mind to slip. Two-hundred years was a long time to be alive.

Was insanity contagious?

He laughed. Charon couldn't help it. He laughed hard and loud, the echo reverberating around the cozy home as he descended the steps to the bottom level. There were two people down here – another man and woman – who had just entered through the front door. At the sight of him – ghoulified body, dirty leather armor, wicked smile, and shotgun – the woman screamed.

"Zombie!" She screeched in horror. "They're coming back from the grave!"

Yep. She would die last. Slowly.

Charon's shotgun boomed and the woman stumbled backwards. He was too far away to do any lethal damage, but getting a barrel of bird-shot to the chest had a very demoralizing effect on someone. As expected, she crumpled to the ground wailing.

The man lunged at Charon with only a butcher knife. Was a knife supposed to scare him? This man wasn't even worth the shotgun shell, so Charon bashed him in the head with the butt of his gun.

"Oops," The ghoul mumbled, feeling his victim's skull cave under his blow. He really did need to learn his own strength.

* * *

Olive felt sick inside. She had long since purged her belly of the stew, but she still felt as though the horrid substance was inside her. It was disgusting. It was horrible. But she had to look. She had to know for certain.

"Do you want me to go down first?" Charon was leaning against the counter, rubbing some brain-matter from the barrel of his shotgun. Though his hands were busy, those cloudy eyes watched his Smoothskin like a hawk. He rather liked the feelings flowing through him right now. Despite the occurrences in Megaton, Charon was comfortable around the girl again. He wasn't sure why. He knew he should still be angry and vengeful, but he felt good.

Maybe it was the slaughtering of an entire town of cannibals. Well, four adults, two children, and an old man didn't really constitute as a 'town' but Charon wasn't one to complain.

He studied his employer. He committed her face to memory – the way she chewed her thin lips and how her eyes darted from place to place as she thought. The way her pixie-cut hair fell about her head. Those eyes of hers – the wide orbs so full of fear and life.

Her body was next. Charon was still amazed at how short she was. A few inches less and she would probably be considered a midget. If it wasn't for all the curves being in all the right places, a person could easily mistake her for a child or at least an adolescent boy. Sometimes he wondered if she didn't occasionally masquerade as a male while out exploring the wastes. It was a logical thing to do – since raiders were much more likely to attack a wandering woman over a wondering man. To partially solidify his theory, Charon knew Olive had long since mastered a male voice and often spoke that way when pretending to be manly.

Despite her height and curves, she was built much like a feline – thin and lanky but fully muscled.

A cat.

Yes. That's how the ghoul would describe his employer. She was very light on her feet – fast, agile, and impossibly hard to catch. He'd once seen a raider try to grab a hold of her but she wiggled out of his grasp much like Houdini in his escapes.

His kitten was afraid – torn between the desire to see horror and the desire to run. Olive fingered an old, rusty key and stared at the basement door. A basement was where she was nearly chopped into bite-sized bits before. It made sense that these cannibals would be similar.

"No..." the girl whispered, answering his long forgotten question. "I'll go down first. You just cover me."

The only response was the _kuh-kuh_ of a shotgun.

The basement was where the cannibals kept their 'food stock'. There were multiple large refrigerators and freezers filled with frozen hunks of meat. It didn't take a trained doctor to recognize that most of it was obviously human.

A human hand attached to its limb. A man's upper thigh – hair still present. A woman's chest with breasts.

In one corner sat a broken freezer full of clothing and random items. These were probably the possessions of those who had also fallen for the perfectness of this small town. Sadly, none of them were aware of the danger until it was probably too late.

Charon began going through the discarded belongings – checking them for anything valuable or useful. Most of it was junk and random bits of clothing, but Charon did find a mostly intact set of leather armor. His had a few bullet holes in them and could use a fix. This set would work nicely. He also spotted what looked like a scarf. On impulse, the ghoul pocketed that as well.

"We can...um..." Olive was poking around at some pipes that ran the course of the eastern wall. She was rhythmically tapping each and listening to the echo. "Um, I think this one is a natural gas pipe. We can burn the place down and bury the bodies that way."

Charon nodded, accepting the girl's disposal tactics. He had spotted a shed on their way into town and figured there might be some extra fuel in there. Gasoline or something would really light the place up. "I'll drag the locals down here," Charon told Olive. "You start yanking the bodies from the freezers and put them in a pile."

"But...I..." Olive was at a loss for words. She didn't want to be left alone down here!

The ghoul, though, was long gone before she could get her tongue in working order. "It's just some dead bodies," she whispered. "I've been around plenty of dead bodies. Even exploded bodies." Opening a freezer, she yanked out an arm before tossing it to the floor with a shiver. "Just imagine they stepped on a land mine. It's just a normal, exploded body. And ghosts don't exist. No ghosts here."

Thumping from the stairs made the girl scream and stumble backwards into the side of a freezer.

All it was was the headless body of Jack being thrown down the stairs.

"Damn-it, Charon! You scared the fuck out of me!"

The ghoul didn't respond and more bodies came tumbling down. Olive did her best not to look at the lifeless forms of the two children. They didn't deserve this. It wasn't their fault their parents were vile monsters.

Still, Olive was thankful Charon was with her. She wouldn't have had the guts to do what needed to be done. She would have run – put as much distance between her and this place as possible. They would have been left to continue with their filthy diet. The ghoul may have gone a little overboard – killing both of the children and an elderly man – but deep down, Olive was glad he did. That small voice in her head was screaming for their blood and Charon had fed it.

Maybe Ely would stay away longer due to that.

* * *

The dead grass and dirt crunched under Charon's boots as he approached the decrepit looking shed. No lights shined, but the ghoul had no problem seeing where he was going. The moonlight was all he needed.

Small bugs, ones unmutated by the radiation, cried out in their nightly chorus and Charon felt at ease. He had always preferred the night. It was as if the slate was wiped clean and everyone was equal. There were no brainwashing employers, no cannibals, no raiders – everyone was just human. The ghoul knew this wasn't true, of course, but he preferred to keep this one ideology alive – if only as a way to humor himself.

Charon knew before he reached the shed that it was locked. The only part that looked fresh was a simple padlock holding the metal door in place. It gleamed and glistened in the moonlight, much like a puddle reflecting the solar rays.

The simile struck the ghoul as odd. He was pretty certain that no time in his life had he compared something to a puddle before.

Maybe he _was_ going mad.

One quick shotgun blast was all it took to send the small lock into a thousand pieces and a few well-placed pokes with the butt of the gun and the door creaked open just fine. One small light bulb hung from the ceiling, barely illuminating the contents of the shed.

Charon's breath came out in white puffs due to the shed being almost a freezer in description. An exceptionally large puff escaped him as he sighed at his surroundings. Two dead Wastelanders lay undressed on separate tables. They couldn't have been more than twelve hours dead. Both were male and in various forms of previous bodily health. The dark skinned one, almost pitch black in color, had pale lacerations all across his body – signs of unwash and parasites. The second male was heavily tanned – or extremely dirty – and a foul stench rose from him. A closer inspection revealed what looked to be a brown skin fungus that covered almost 80% of his body.

The ghoul scowled at the dead men. The water may have been irradiated, but taking a bath every now and then would not kill someone. As it stood, Charon had no desire to touch these men – much less drag them across town. The thought: 'what if I catch something' actually floated across his mind and Charon laughed loudly. How many times had a Smoothskin thought that about him?

A note tacked into one of the structural beams next to the tables caught Charon's eye and he plucked it off.

_Jack, what the fuck is this? Are you trying to make us sick? We're not eating this disease-ridden filth. Get them the hell out of my shed and dispose of them and their clothing before something starts spreading. And wash the tables down when you're through. This is disgusting._

The ghoul had to agree. This was probably one of the most disgusting sights he'd seen in decades. Now he understood why Jack was so excited to see Olive. She wasn't just food. She was healthy, lively food that would make up for this mess.

Speaking of Olive, Charon realized he had been gone a while and that dull ache of needing to protect his employer began to echo in his stomach. It also reminded him why he was in this fucking shed. He spotted half a dozen plastic and metal gas cans in the corner of the shed and poked them with his foot. Three were mostly filled and he hauled them outside. The last three had enough gasoline to douse the two bodies and the wooden beams, and after lighting a match and making sure the gas caught, Charon carried his containers back to the house, ignoring the crackling of wood and the collapsing of the metal exterior. He would tell Olive it was an accident. That would be enough for her.


	11. Chapter 11

"Where did you get it, again?" Olive's head was buried shoulder-deep inside a large wooden item tucked in the sitting area of Moriarty's Pub. She required being in such a strange position that Charon was actually holding her up in the air with her legs half-braced on his shoulders and his head in between them. An on-looker might find the position erotic, but everyone was more interested in what Olive was doing and not the relative closeness of her crotch and Charon's face. She was digging around inside the wooden object with a wrench, a hammer, and a pair of pliers – yanking out bits and pieces and tossing them in Moriarty's direction. The barkeep was in turn gathering these items up in a box on the bar.

The pair had returned to Megaton after a week. After the incident with the cannibals, Olive led the charge straight to Tenpenny Tower and promptly drank herself stupid. Charon was pretty certain that Ely popped out after the girl was drunk, though this was only based on a sudden mood swing from drunken jolliness to drunken confusion and a simple question of, "Ghoulie, where are..." She never finished the question because she ended up worshiping the porcelain throne for the next hour before passing out.

Olive was back that next morning and the pair started a slow travel back up north, accompanied by the merchant Crow. Both Crow and Charon were pleased with the extra bodyguards and Olive enjoyed the conversation and seeing new sights.

After two weeks back in Megaton, when the ghoul walked outside that morning, he was amazed to see about half a dozen hulking men trying to maneuver an ancient and large object through Megaton. Moriarty was leading the charge but doing little more than cause confusion for the workers. It had been over one-hundred and fifty years since Charon had last seen one of these – and even then it was half-rotted and falling apart from the elements. This one, though a little worn around the edges, looked almost brand new.

Charon decided to call out his employer to show her what the men were carrying. She would never truly understand the importance of the item, but he could at least show her a part of the world's history. A part of its forgotten past.

Having just woken, Olive was slow and groggy getting outside to Charon's call. "What, Charon? What's so exciting that it can't wait till after breakfast?"

"Come have a look at what Moriarty acquired."

The girl glanced over the railing, expecting a shiny neon sign or something. The men were right below them now, trying to decide the best way to carry the item up the unstable gangway of Megaton, so Olive got an up close and personal view.

"It's called a piano," Charon told her, sighing happily as he leaned against the rail. "They were-"

"That's a mother-fucking Steinway!"

The ghoul was taken aback from the girl's outburst. "It's a what?" He turned to look at Olive, but she was no longer beside him. Instead, he heard her feet hammering down the gangway towards the men. Charon rolled his eyes and vaulted over the railing, landing a few feet behind his ecstatic employer.

The girl latched onto Moriarty, mouth running a mile a minute while she pointed wildly at the instrument. "Where did you find one? Oh my god! It's beautiful! I haven't seen one of these in years! Does it work? I bet it's out of tune. Please let me have a look at it! Please, Moriarty!"

"Whoa, whoa, lass!" Moriarty held his hands up and Olive immediately fell silent. "First off, that thing is getting up in my pub. If you want to help, make sure everyone stays off the walkways."

Eyeballing the walkways, Olive could see that there were multiple children loitering around, wondering what all the commotion was about. This was unacceptable. "Charon," she mumbled under her breath, grabbing the ghoul and starting up towards the children, "I want you to look mean and as zombie-like as you can."

"Wha-"

"Hey, kids! If you don't shove off, I'm going to let my zombie friend here have at your brains!"

Charon, pushed forwards towards the kids, made a feeble attempt to look mean by showing his teeth and making pathetic zombie noises. His actions weren't necessary because as soon as the ghoul was pushed their way, the children screamed in horror and bolted away from the pair.

After that, it only took about an hour to get the piano upstairs and into Moriarty's Pub. Once there, and discovering that most of the keys made only a slight _plink_ sound, Olive immediately popped the top open and began to dig around. Moriarty let the girl go. Out of everyone else in Megaton, she seemed to have the best idea of what to do to fix the ancient instrument.

As to where he got it, Moriarty wasn't one to give out information for free.

"Some friends of mine just stumbled across it," the barkeep said simply.

"Bullshit. I bet you stole it from Vault 92." Olive leaned out of the back of the piano, examining a jumble of wires with a horrified and disgusted expression before tossing them aside and diving back in. "My grandma wanted to put me in Vault 92. She even had an inside man in Vault Co. who would do anything she asked." More wire was yanked free. "But nope. Mamma said Vault 64 would be the place to go. She probably knew of the fucked up things they were doing there. Wouldn't put it past her. Oooh! That wire looks okay."

Olive popped her head back out, oblivious to the now-confused stares of everyone in the room. "Give the third key on the left a poke."

Moriarty obliged and the key made a high-pitched twang.

"Heh, out of tune but that's fine. Can fix that. Up. Up."

The ghoul pulled the girl out of the innards of the instrument and set her down gently. She looked at the piano and then a very serious expression creased her face. No one said a word, sensing that the girl was having some form of internal conflict – or was constipated. Olive's face grew red and she suddenly wiped her eyes. "I suppose there's really only one place I can think of to get the parts needed to fix this," she mumbled. "I..."

The Smoothskin breathed in deeply and slowly let it out. "I came to DC for the soul purpose of going there." She was still mumbling to herself, rubbing her small hands over the wooden instrument. "I guess...I guess it's time. No more putting it off." Olive's head snapped up, her eyes set and determined. "Moriarty, I'm going to need a piece of paper and something to write with. If I'm going all the way into the heart of D.C., I don't want to forget anything and have to walk my happy ass all the way back."

* * *

Charon dropped a brick on a bear trap someone had decided to randomly place in the middle of the subway. The trap made a loud _CLANK_ and jumped a good two feet in the air. Whoever put this here did it for the soul purpose of fucking up someone's day – not for trapping anything.

"I thought those things were outlawed in 2020-something," Ely whispered as she gently fingered the teeth of the horrid item. "Outlawed as in: they were all melted down and if someone saw you with one, you were going to jail."

"Was before my time," the ghoul mumbled offhandedly, looking around for more. He was trying his best to ignore his companion. Though Ely had been very well behaved, the itching of Charon's trigger finger made him worry he would do something he would regret. _Olive is in there,_ Charon thought. _I cannot hurt her._

Sure enough, another trap lay a good twenty feet away. When Charon found whoever put these down, he was going to kill them. He would gladly displace his anger for Ely onto this new individual. When he had awoken two days ago to her chuckling while flipping through their diary, the ghoul had known his employers had switched. The idea of bashing her upside the head in hopes that Olive would come out again, did pop into his mind, but Charon decided to grin and bear it. He would have to get used to Ely eventually.

"When were you born?"

Another well-aimed brick took out the second bear trap. Without thinking, Charon replied, "2055."

"So you are a pre-war ghoul. I figured as much."

The ghoul glanced at his employer before throwing a third brick down into the darkness of the tunnel. A loud _CLANK_ confirmed the slight shimmer in the distance.

Charon: 3.

Fucktard: 0.

"Yeah, I was around before we all thought it would be a dandy idea to blow each other up."

Ely giggled – a noise uncharacteristic of herself.

The lightheartedness that flowed over the ghoul almost made him join in, but he caught himself and stared hard at the girl. What was she doing to him? He didn't feel normal. Ely stared back, her eyes shimmering in the dull light of the lamp she held.

"You're trying to act like Olive."

Those brown eyes narrowed in annoyance and she let out a long breath. "I don't normally do this, but Olive likes you so I should try to keep you around."

"Yeah," Charon grumbled, rolling his cloudy eyes, "you did a great job on making me like you. Days on end of torture – a perfect way to start a relationship."

Ely shrugged. "I admit I got a little overzealous, but no harm done."

The ghoul whirled around, his hand raised – wielding a brick ready to crush bone. In his eyes, all he saw was red and that sadistic grin she held as she tortured him. The way her tongue moved across her lips, as though tasting something more delicious than life itself. Her eyes, as they darted across his naked form, seemed to look at him as a toy. The girl's smooth skin – so misleading in her character.

Charon felt the pain searing through his body and start up his legs towards his groin. Every past employer would have cowered at their slave's sudden violent urgings, but Ely had not moved. She merely stared at him with those calculating eyes – as if waiting for something.

That's when the ghoul felt it – the complete desire to have the woman before him. To push her against the stone rubble in the shadows and tear into her with violent abandon. He wanted to taste her flesh, to make her scream, to ravage her like a beast.

He would not let her say no.

In one swift move, Charon knocked the lantern from Ely's hand, grabbed her arm, and spun the woman around. As she spun, his left arm came out, catching her in a stranglehold and pulling Ely's back flush against his leathered chest. In that same instant, his right hand snagged the front of her belt and tore the clasp free. One swift twist of his wrist and her pants fell halfway down her thighs.

Ely's head finally snapped back into gear and she thrashed against the ghoul – trying to kick and bite him – but Charon was trained in restraining individuals. One slight flexing of his arm muscles and his employer's windpipe was squeezed shut.

Unable to breathe, animal instinct kicked in. Ely's legs came up before slamming hard into one of the ghoul's knees. At the same instant, her fingers clawed at his leathered skin – trying to rip it from bone. Charon grunted at the sudden pain in his leg and decided to pivot on the wounded limb, bring the girl slamming to the ground with a two-hundred pound ghoul on top of her.

Winded and dazed, Ely let herself go limp as she tried to draw breath. The ghoul was far too strong for her, ever since her last bout of fun with him, Charon's attitude had changed dramatically. Before, the simple command of 'stop' would have halted the ghoul in his tracks, but now it seemed as though he had his own personality, opinions...and desires.

Ely shivered with pleasure as the ghoul forced her legs open and rammed his manhood deep inside her.

When she had awoke this morning, she was hoping the ghoul would kill her – but this was nice too.

* * *

Charon felt cold inside and the urge to vomit began to churn in his stomach. His mouth opened but no words came out. What had he just done?

The Smoothskin was humming to herself as she readjusted her clothing, brushing the dust and grime from the cloth. She didn't look injured. She wasn't crying and screaming.

She seemed…happy.

Ely glanced up at Charon as she tightened her belt and snapped the latch shut. For a second, she paused, studying his horror-stricken face. "You alright?"

"I...I..."

The girl laughed – a deep, hearty sound that echoed down the tunnels and came eerily back. "You're a fucking animal! If I'd known you had that in you, I would've come back earlier. No wonder Olive wants to keep you around. How often you make her feel like that?"

Charon found his voice and quickly went into the defensive. "Olive and I have never done...that." He gestured wildly in her direction before running his hands over his face. "I can't believe I did that. I just raped you."

"You can't rape the willing, Ghoulie."

"But you. I..." The ghoul made a disgusted sound and covered his face again. That's when a strange thought dawned on him and he decided to voice it. Bringing his hands back down with a sigh, he fully faced his employer. "You liked that, didn't you?" Charon had liked that very much. A lot more than he would have liked to have admitted. Never in his life had he been in control, but the past twenty minutes of pleasure and dominance pulsed through his veins like a drug. He wanted more.

Ely paused in picking up her discarded lantern. "Yes. Yes I did. Nothing pleases me more than a powerful man."

"Could we..." Charon gulped, practically whispering the question. "Could we, you know...do it again?"

"Right now?" The girl stared at him. She had had many lovers who liked being powerful and in control, but never one that took her like that. They always waited for her to give the 'okay cue' before going at her. Charon didn't let her even begin to voice a no, and he wanted to do it again – it made her shiver in anticipation.

God yes, she wanted it again.

"N-no, not right now – just some other time?" Charon stammered. He felt dirty, confused, and strangely cold. Did sex normally leave people like this?

Ely brushed off the lantern and held it up, gazing steadily down the tunnel ahead of them. "Think we spooked any of the locals?"

"Oh, shit." Charon scooped up his discarded shotgun, suddenly realizing that there may be enemies around. The bear traps – someone had to have put them there, and it was possible they were still here. The amount of noise the two made would have definitely alerted anyone in the area. Ely had one hell of a set of lungs on her. "Just keep an eye out for bear traps."


	12. Chapter 12

***I never checked to see if anyone was actually reading this and was pleasantly surprised to see quite a few hits and even a handful of reviews. Thank you all. And yes Denkinasu, there is a town of cannibals in the game. It's called Andale and is inhabited by some inbred folks.***

* * *

"It's the Vault Kid," Ely whispered.

"You sure?"

The girl nodded. "I never forget someone I've beat the shit out of."

"What should we do with him?"

Ely sat crouched a good five feet away from the 'Savior of the Wastes' and watched him carefully. The Vault Kid didn't look so good. He was deadly thin, clothes in rags, and had a leg clamped in a bear trap. By the look of it, the bone had shattered but was still there enough to hold him in place.

"He's been here a while," Charon commented. "That leg's dead. Look at it. Tore the flesh to bits and part of the bone's sticking out."

The Vault Kid's pale eyes watched the pair with equal interest. He tried to grab at either of them, but try as he might, he couldn't quite reach them. Unintelligible noises gurgled from his parched throat, but still they stayed away.

"Think we can get that Pip-Boy off him?" Ely inquired, gesturing at the man's left arm.

Charon nodded, squinting in the gloom. "Shouldn't be too hard. Cutting off the arm will be the tough bit, and it'll need a cleanup after that. You know how to work one of those?"

Ely shrugged. "I imagine it can't be too hard. I'm pretty technologically savvy, you know."

"Really?" Charon was genuinely surprised. He had seen both personalities hack computers, but Ely was more inclined to blast things apart with well-placed C-4 or a grenade. Patience was not this girl's strong suit. Yet he supposed she could be pretty good if she set her mind to something.

The ghoul's employer ignored the question and instead was unhitching the machete from her bag. "Now that I'm thinking about it, that must have been his camp we came across last night. It's not often you run across some Brotherhood of Steel armor just sitting around in the sewers."

Charon nodded, moving in closer to examine the Vaultie. He had heard stories about this guy but never actually expected to meet him. For a moment, the ghoul imagined what it would have been like to be employed to him – a stuck up, vile, raping, vault kid…

Eyes narrowing, the ghoul glanced to where Ely was sharpening the machete. Stuck up. Vile. Raping. Possibly a vault kid?

He shook his head. Whatever was with the Vault 64 thing, both Ely and Olive refused to speak about it. Getting the girl drunk generally loosened her lips. Maybe Charon would try that once they got back from the city. Ely would be quick to talk about it. She never shut up when she was drunk.

Charon's mind wandered back to the concept of lips and he stared hard at his employer. She was humming as she ran the blade's edge over their sharpening stone. As she worked, the girl would lick and chew on her bottom lip. Oh, yes. Charon had a wonderful idea for the evening.

Absentmindedly, he grabbed the ghoulified hand that came too close to his face and twisted roughly – feeling the familiar crunch of bone as the wrist snapped. The vault kid's scream of pain snagged Ely's attention and she smiled.

"You can put the filthy feral out of its misery, you know." The girl grinned wickedly at her Pip-Boy prize. "Even I'm not cruel enough to leave something alive while I start chopping off bits. Well," she corrected herself, "unless I'm in the mood for it."

Charon barked a laugh, strangely at ease with his employer, and pointed his shotgun steadily at the reaching ghoul.

The single shot echoed through the subway caverns.

* * *

"_IT'S THREEDOG! BOW-WOW! HOW YOU CHILDREN DOING?"_

"Ow..." Ely winced and squinted against the sudden barrage of noise. "I think I found the radio."

"Find the volume and we'll be gravy," grumbled Charon.

"_WATCH OUT FOLKS, SOME SUPER MUTANTS HAVE BEen running crazy through the downtown D.C..."_

The voice flipped off with a small pop. "Well, we have a radio now. Can keep an eye on what's going on in the area." Ely held down a button and the Pip-Boy's screen brightened. "And a hands-free light. That's useful."

The ghoul rotated the girl's arm, pointing the illuminating wrist adornment down the dark passage before them. He scowled at it. "Not as good as a lantern, but you have a point with the 'hands-free' thing. No use having one of our hands occupied with a light when it could hold a gun."

Letting the light dim, Ely turned a few dials. "Notes and recordings – we'll have to go through those when we get someplace secure. Vitals."

Charon turned the wrist a little to get a better view of the girl's vital signs. Everything looked fine though her body image was one of a vault boy striking a splayed out pose. Did they make girl versions?

The Smoothskin ignored him and kept flipping dials. "Sweet! A map – and it's mostly filled in. This vaultie got around." She zoomed the map in on their current location. "We're here. We have to go all the way..." the map slid across the city, "...to here. There are mutants and raiders floating around topside, so it would be best if we could stay underground as much as possible. Ghouls and animals tend to be the only things down here. The occasional raider group, but Supermutants actually don't like the tunnels."

"The fuckers are too big," Charon grumbled offhandedly, studying the map and deciding on a route. His Smoothskin wanted them to go all the way to the eastern part of the city. The map zoomed in enough to get an idea of the building shapes and even had descriptive notes on the area. The Vault Kid had visited the pair's destination and apparently kept some useful notes – albeit old ones.

East Haven Shopping Center.

Age of Information: 2 Years, 4 Months, 25 Days.

Raiders: Yes. Location: Wandering. Headquarters: Northern Food Store. Large building with a round sign.

Mutants: No.

Feral Ghouls: No.

Animals/insects: No.

Radiation Level: Slight/None

Building Conditions: Intact.

Entrances: Southern Subway Tunnel only.

"Well yank up your britches and tighten your belt, Charon. We're going shopping."


	13. Chapter 13

It took almost three weeks for the pair to reach the East Haven Shopping Center. Collapsed tunnels forced them to travel spurts on the surface, then radiation levels, blockades, or over-powering enemies forced the two back underground. Just as they would make some headway, the pair would run into a dead end and have to backtrack almost all the way they had come.

After a week of this, Ely circled around down by Rivet City and tried going north. Two days into this route, the girl took an unlucky bullet to the stomach – digging the pair in an abandoned apartment for a few days of recovery.

It wasn't until Olive came back that they made any headway. Unlike Ely, this persona seemed to know the city like the back of her hand. The new Pip-Boy – which the girl was ecstatic about – filled in the few gaps in her memory or let her know when dangers might be in the area.

"You got this from the Vault Kid, huh?"

Charon grunted an affirmative and kept scanning the tunnel behind them for traps or enemies. All that stood before them was a steel gate. They had stopped for a short rest before ascending into the East Haven Shopping Center. Food and drink now could save their lives if they got surrounded by some raiders. Olive also took the time to become further acquainted with her new wrist toy.

"He kept very meticulous notes on places and people. Listen to this: 'Jenny Stahl: Female. Megaton. Employment: Food/bar. Notes: A great lay – even when she's knocked out. Just have to bring her home, pop her a shot of whiskey, and out she goes. Doesn't remember a thing.' I'm really glad you shot him, Charon. I always hated this kid."

The ghoul glanced down at his employer. Just a week ago, he had pushed her body against a wall and – much to her alter persona's delight – ravished her. Olive met his steady gaze and grinned. The way her eyes sparkled as she smiled – lit by the dull light – made the ancient ghoul's heart jump. She was stunning when she smiled like that. No worries. No fears. In that single smile, the world seemed wonderful.

Charon broke eye-contact first, looking away with an inaudible sigh. If his employer's two personalities would merge Olive's lovely demeanor with Ely's sex craze...

But things didn't work that way. Olive would never go for a ghoul. Or would she?

"What's your opinion of having sex with a ghoul?"

Olive's body shot straight up like a pole and she stared at her bodyguard. No longer smiling, a look of absolute horror crawled across her face. "W-what?"

Charon shrugged, trying his best to act as uninterested and detached from the conversation as possible. He'd had a lot of practice in the past, so this was a cakewalk. "I just know how Ely gets around men. She can't keep her hands off them. I also know that some places – like Underworld – have a high ghoul population. You dislike ghouls so–"

"I like you."

The response caught the man off guard and he floundered for a moment.

"You're my friend," Olive mumbled, pulling her legs up to her chest and hugging them, rocking back and forth slowly. "It's been a long time since I've had someone I could rely on, like yourself."

"But my point is you wouldn't want to have sex with me – or any other ghoul – would you?"

The girl hung her head. "To be honest, I don't think I ever could. I don't mean to be bigoted or racist or whatever – it's just...I don't think I could bring myself to do it. What if that's all it takes to make me into one of you?"

Shoving the previous sex conversation on the back burner, Charon decided to quickly nip this train of thought in the butt. "Ghouls aren't contagious. You can't become a ghoul by hanging out with one."

"Don't be silly! I know that!" Olive giggled slightly at the outrageousness of the thought, before quickly sobering. "You can't tell anyone. In fact, I order you to always keep your mouth shut about this – even to any future employers you may get."

"That can be arranged."

She motioned for him to sit next to her on the crumbling rubble. As he did, Olive turned to face him, breathing out slowly and rubbing her face. Was this the right thing to do? Would he consider her a freak? The girl took in his ghoulish features. No. Charon wouldn't be that cruel. "I've never actually told anyone this, Charon, but I'm a ghoul."

Charon stared at his employer with hooded eyes. He was expecting some humor but actually found none of this funny. Yeah, she was crazy, but now the ghoul had a new level to crazy to add to the list. This beautiful Smoothskin before him thought she was a ghoul. How fucked up is that?

"You're not a ghoul, kid."

"I was born in 2061."

The ghoul rolled his eyes and fluffed his employer's pixie hair – earning a small glare. "Look, you're just a little off your rocker. That doesn't make you a ghoul."

Olive looked as though she was about to reply, but snapped her mouth shut instead. If the ghoul didn't believe her, she wasn't going to press the issue. "Anyway, why the question about ghoul sex?"

"If Ely looks like she's about to start doing the dirty with an unknown ghoulie, do you want to have a standing order for me to stop her?"

Olive began nodding, but froze in mid nod, her face cringing in phantom pain. "If you try to make Ely not do something, she will either kill you and do it, or just ignore you and do it more. You can't stop her, so how about..." the body shiver vibrated the Pip-Boy's light across the tunnel, "how about just don't mention it? Out of sight – out of mind?"

"I can do that."

"Yes. Wonderful," Olive stood up, patting her pants free of lingering dust. "How about we get moving before this conversation gets any more uncomfortable?"

Charon shouldered his bag – rolling his arm to shift the new weight into a more fitting position. He had recently taking to carrying more of their gear, thus leaving the smaller and more agile girl to her skills.

"I'll go up first," the girl was mumbling as she silently wedged part of the tunnel gate open. "I'm a lot smaller than you, so I'll be able to scout the area without being spotted as easily. If something does come after me, I'll come shooting through this hole, so you stay put with guns ready."

Trusting in his employer's abilities, Charon nodded, cocking his gun in a sign of agreement.

* * *

"'Gran-Gran's Musical Wonder House'." Charon glared at the overly cheery store sign that still hung above their destination. Though in great disrepair, the violin-shaped object was still readable and small flecks of paint clung to the metal surface. "That's a horrible name for a store. Too damn long."

Olive ignored the ghoul and studied the familiar store front. Unlike the pharmacy next door, this building looked largely untouched by raiders and time. The front glass had been broken, but the sliding metal security doors were still latched down. The girl surmised that a musical store would be pointless to raiders in today's time and had been ignored.

As for those raiders – none could be found. The entire plaza was empty. No living sign of the anarchistic pain in the asses was anywhere to be found. A few highly rotted raider bodies were stumbled upon and this led the girl into believing that it had been months since raiders lived here last. Charon and Olive had checked every available building, and the lack of food, firearms, and medical supplies brought up a simple conclusion: the raiders had hopped ship.

What had once been a paradise of unpilfered goods had finally run out and due to being so far from any town or trade route, the entire little settlement had collapsed in on itself.

"So any plans on getting inside?"

Olive glanced over at her ghoul. He was poking the metal security doors with his shotgun and grunting unhappily. She knew he had been expecting a big gunfight with lots of hooting and hollering. Since getting no form of welcoming committee, Charon felt useless and bored. "I doubt I'm strong enough to do it, Charon, so why don't you get the crowbar from the bag and try to pry a part of the security door up? If we can make a spot big enough for me to slip through, I might be able to open it on the other side."

"No," Charon examined the lower portion of the door – where it latched into the floor. "There could be enemies in there. Let's blow it open with some C4."

"You're not blowing up Gram's shop."

The downright calm and deadly tone in the girl's voice made the ancient ghoul pause. With a glance, he met eyes akin to Ely's – only Olive was the one behind them. They were calculating eyes that bore into every crevice of his body and read his every move long before he ever thought of making it. The girl was more similar to her counterpart than she realized.

"As you wish." Charon let his bag drop to the dirt before pulling the crowbar free from its position. From his inspection, the ghoul had located a small part where the metal latch had become damaged – resulting in a half inch gap between the door and the floor. He slammed the crowbar into the small slot and when it found its mark and slid in, Charon forced his body weight on the free end of the tool.

Whether from age, improper handling, or Charon's brute strength, a loud snap echoed through the shopping center and the security door rolled partway up.

"What happened?" Charon whispered, now a few feet away from the dark void – shotgun at the ready.

Olive smiled at the ghoul before lighting up a lantern and setting it at the base of the security door. "You just broke the locking latch. Got lucky, I suppose. Found the perfect spot to hit. Without that lever, this metal sheeting won't stay down." Ducking under the door, she disappeared inside, calling back, "The Pip-Boy doesn't spot anything in here, so we should be okay."

"Fucking Smoothskin," Charon grumbled, snatching up the discarded bag and crowbar before following the girl inside. To the ghoul's surprise, unlike every other pre-bomb building he had been in, this one was clean and organized. Things were still on the shelves, pictures were righted, papers were stacked, light bulbs in their sockets – if it wasn't for the layer of dust on everything, Charon half expected someone to stumble out of the back room to give them music lessons.

The room was set up simply – divided into different music sections. Pianos dominated the middle floor and in the back corner an old drummer's set sat quietly. Woodwind instruments hung on the walls – all situated lightly in their easy-to-pick-up holders. One wall was dedicated to books of all sorts. How-To guides, music books, cleaning guides, instrument tutorials, biographies on ancient musicians – the list went on and on.

Olive stood at the front of the store, near the destroyed front window. To her left was a small piano and to her right a checkout counter. She lit up another lantern before setting it on the counter top and beginning to go through the register and the drawers.

The only possible exits to the room were the way the pair came in, or through a locked metal door against the back wall. Having found no threats in the current room, Charon like-wise lit a lantern and wandered around. This was the first time in his life he had ever been in a store like this. The ghoul had always wanted to play musical instruments, but had no means to acquire one. "Olive?"

The girl looked up from her search at the register. "Yes, Charon?"

"Do you know how to play any of these?" He made a broad gesture to indicate the entire store. "Or do you know anyone that does? Is music a lost art?"

The way she softly smiled at his words made Charon's ancient heart melt. "There are still some people out there that know. And yes, I know how to play every instrument in the building. I may be a bit rusty, but it's like riding a bike – you never forget."

"Could you...teach me something?"

For a long moment, Olive didn't reply. Instead she stared at the front desk tabletop in deep concentration. Fearing rejection to his offer, Charon remained silent – not even allowing breath to seep across his lips.

Finally, she responded, "We'll have to see what's survived this long. It's been...well...forever. Most instruments don't last long if they're not properly taken care of. The best instruments are in the vault in back. Grams should have put most of them in there."

The girl wiped her eyes and Charon realized she had begun to cry. Uncertain how to remedy the situation, the ghoul did what he always did when an employer became upset – blend in with the surroundings. A few strides of his long legs led him to the woodwinds and he casually plucked a flute from its holder and pretended to be highly interested in still-working buttons.

How did someone play this? Charon rotated the instrument in his hands. One end was capped, while the other was open. A small oval notch was along the side by the capped end. Much like a gun barrel, he cautiously peered down the tube – finding it clear of all debris but dust. He examined the oval opening again while glancing at a nearby faded image of a boy playing the instrument. The lips go there, huh?

Charon followed the picture's guide and held the instrument horizontal to his right. Lightly tapping a few of the buttons and leavers made him exceptionally pleased with the feel, yet also horrified that he was going to break it. The ghoul took a deep breath and covered the oval opening with his lips before blowing as hard as he could.

A hollow-blowing-air-through-a-tube sound emitted and a huge puff of dust shot out the back of the instrument.

Olive burst into laughter and Charon quickly put the item back. Flute was not going to be on his list of instruments.

"Charon, sweetie, why don't you come up here and give me a hand jimmying a lock?" Olive called once her laughter had subsided. "I accidentally broke the tip of the booby-pin off inside it."

The ghoul obliged and joined his employer at the checkout. She had nimble, lock picking fingers, but some locks just needed brute force to get them open. Age often rusted the mechanisms. The lock in question was a simple, small one that held a large panel shut on the leg-level area of the checkout counter.

Taking her screwdriver, he shoved it in the lock and gave it a savage twist to the right. Metal squealed and twisted, tearing apart inside the workings. Using the crowbar, Charon forced the metal cabinet door open the rest of the way. Books were neatly stacked inside the now-open compartment and a few sets of keys dangled on metal hooks.

Olive seemed delighted at the find and began to dig them out. "Store journals," the girl mumbled to herself. "Grams was very good at keeping records of things."

While his employer skimmed through some of the later journal entries, Charon ran a finger across the counter top. The amount of dust that had collected was simply amazing – and to go for so long without being disturbed. Amused by the amount gathered on his finger, the ghoul blew it away with a deep breath. Much like the flute, the dust poofed outward in a cloud.

"Heh," he chuckled – this time wiping up some dust with the palm of his hand. Instead of blowing this dust off, Charon noticed something under the counter's plastic top. He wiped more dust away and brought a lantern closer. What he saw were pictures. Pictures of old times with happy faces. Men, women, children, young, and old all decorated the counter area. They had somehow been slipped beneath the plastic topping and survived these many years. The most common image was one of an elderly woman with short, perfectly white hair. She sat with children at pianos, playing clarinets with two adults, and holding awards with an excited young man. Some pictures were just of individuals in the shop – holding instruments, trying them out, and otherwise having fun. Other pictures were of school graduates and their instruments or an entire orchestra with a face or two circled.

The ghoul smiled as he gazed at the images. This had been a happy place and he was glad raiders had not pillaged it. Many people had come here for joy and companionship. Before they left, he would find a way to make sure the security door locked tight. Olive would probably like that as well.

Olive?

Charon's gaze shot to a picture of the elderly woman and a young girl sitting at a piano. Side by side, the two females bore a striking family resemblance – albeit one old and one young. The young girl – maybe ten years old – was thin, small, with dark eyes and long brown hair. At first Charon didn't recognize the face he knew so well, but the smile the girl bore was not one he could easily forget.

"Olive!"

The girl's head popped up from behind the counter. "Huh? Yeah, what's up?"

Jabbing a finger at the picture, the ghoul said simply, "That's you."

She glanced at the image and nodded. "Grams took that not long after she started teaching me piano. I'd mastered Mary Had A Little Lamb and she thought it was great."

"But how can that be you?" Charon stared hard at his employer – feeling as though his lungs weren't working right. "These are old pictures. Very, very old pictures and no one has been in here for a long, long time!" Was he talking fast? Charon felt like he was talking fast.

"I already told you. I'm a lot older than I look. I knew this store was here because for almost ten years I came here every day after school. Grams babysat me."

She couldn't be telling the truth, Charon thought. There was no way his employer was close to his age! But the picture...

"Tell me everything," Charon said quietly, no longer finding enjoyment in the store. "I want to know who – or what – you are. I want to know where you're from, and I want to know how your picture could be in a two-hundred year old building."

Olive had also sombered. "Let's lock the building down first. We can stay here for the night. I'd also like to finish checking through the rest of the rooms. According to these journals, Grams had plans to stay here if the bombs fell – in the back vault."

"Once we're secure, I expect an explanation."

"You'll get one, Charon. I promise. Until then..." Olive showed the ghoul a set of keys from the cabinet and tossed him the spare. "Let's see what's in the vault."


	14. Chapter 14

***For Tom-Ato13: Thanks for reviewing. Don't worry. Your questions about Ely/Olive will be answered. As for the Vault Kid: He didn't blow up Megaton. The Kid did try, but if you check Chapter 4, Simms mentions that Ely caught the Vault Kid trying to detonate the nuke and beat the crap out of him. The assumption is that the Vault Kid fled town after that and Ely may have neutralized the explosive properties of the bomb. She did state how Olive liked the town...**

**About the FEV virus, the answer as to why he didn't put it in the purifier is simple. By that point in the game, the Vault Kid would have learned that he was not a "pure vault dweller". Also, I have yet to meet anyone who has played Fallout 3 and not irradiated themselves out the ass for Moria's little Wasteland Survival Guide. The high radiation and her fix gives you a genetic mutation. The Vault Kid isn't stupid. If he put the FEV Virus in the water, he too would die. He's out for Numero-Uno, after all.***

* * *

Charon led the way deeper into the store. In the back room was what appeared to be an office of sorts with multiple doors.

"Those three doors are practice rooms," Olive explained, pointing to three doors with numbers on them. "They're decently sound proof. That last one leads to the store-room and the vault."

"I'll check the practice rooms, first. You go through this room and see if there's anything useful." Without waiting for confirmation, the ghoul tried door number one. It was locked, but after two key tries, the lock clicked. Gun at the ready, he threw the door open.

Nothing.

There were a few chairs, a table, two music stands, and a broken mirror, but besides that, the room was empty. The two remaining practice rooms were nearly identical except one had the mirror still intact.

Charon scowled at his reflection and humored the idea of breaking the offending object, but thought better of it. There was some old wives' tale about mirrors and black cats, or something.

"Find anything, Smoothskin?"

She shook her head. "Nothing useful to us. A few pre-war dollars, but nothing important. All the good stuff is in the vault. Unless we're short on pencils. Lots of those here."

Believe it or not, pencils were actually remarkably useful in post-war society. Few people could read or write, but those that could coveted the items. "Grab a few. We don't really need them, but they're light and don't take up room. Also, with the way you write in that journal of yours, we should keep some extras."

While the girl wrapped some of the wooden sticks in a bundle, Charon approached the remaining door and was grateful to find it unlocked. Like all the others, he opened the wooden barricade with caution. Being alive this long had taught the ghoul to never feel comfortable. Hell, there were times he half expected someone to be behind doors in Olive's home in Megaton. Paranoid? Yes, but it kept him alive.

This back room was still as tidy as the front, but it there were things more familiar to Charon's experience. Neatly stacked boxes of food sat in one corner, neighbored by cans of others. Near them, but on a shelf, were crates of purified water. Tucked in beside perfectly folded clothes were medical supplies and books.

"None of it looks used."

Charon nodded, agreeing with his Smoothskin. There appeared to be no trash, empty boxes, or any sign that the supplies had been touched. "What was the last date in the journals up front?"

"October 27th, 2077."

Popping out a few fingers, the ghoul counted silently. "Four days after the bombs."

Olive picked up a bottle of the stored water and tossed another to her companion. Brushing the dust off, she eyed a large, square metal door. "That's the vault." The girl tilted her head at it. "That's where..."

She trailed off, but Charon knew her words and why she was at a loss of them. Grief was one of the strongest feelings in the human's emotional repertoire. It could incapacitate even the most hardened of warriors, destroy a nation, and cause unbelievable death. Normally, the ghoul would do as earlier and ignore his employer's plight, but standing next to Olive as she began to sob tugged on his heart-strings. The girl sunk to the floor, squeezing the water bottle to her chest as though it would save her. Through the gasps for air and tears streaming down her face, those brown eyes never left that metal door. She had tried to be strong. She had tried to pretend as though none of this fazed her. She had tried to pretend to be that hardened wasteland traveler everyone thought she was – but the truth was she was scared. Olive was more scared than she had ever been in her life.

She was more scared than the day she started kindergarten.

She was more scared than the day her dad left to fight in the war.

She was more scared than the day her mother dragged her from this building and forced her on a train to a forsaken desert.

She was more scared than the day she saw that lone missile arching over the Mojave – her last glimpse of the world before the vault.

She wished Ely would take over so Olive could go cry in the darkest corners of her mind.

"I'll take care of everything. You go back to the front room." The words escaped Charon's mouth before he was aware he'd said them. Taking a small breath to help steady himself, the ghoul continued, "If your grandmother is in there, you should not see her as she is. Go to the front room and find a way to rig the security door down. I'll take care of everything back here."

"But..."

Grabbing the girl by the arms, Charon hauled her to her feet. "Listen to me, Smoothskin, and do what I say. Remember your grandmother as she was – long before this war. Those pictures in front are what you need to focus on. Keep them in mind, not what may have happened to her. If she's in there, we will give her a proper burial – close to her beloved store. But first you must find a way to lock that security gate. I will not allow bandits to tear this place apart when we leave. Can you do that for me, Smoothskin?"

Olive tore her eyes from the vault door and nodded dejectedly. Her whole body trembled in the terror of what could be. Was Grams inside the vault? If so, what was left of her? What if she was a ghoul – a feral, mindless ghoul they had to put down?

The urge to vomit hit the girl and she covered her mouth, nodding again to Charon. She was going to go now. She had to get out of this room. "The code is 14-93-72-11," Olive whispered quietly – so quietly she wasn't sure if she had actually said it. But the ghoul nodded and squared his shoulders. He did that when he was being tough, Olive noted. Charon was being strong for her.

As a precaution, Charon closed the passage behind the retreating girl and set his eyes on the vault.

The dial spun smoothly and one rough jerk was all it took to open the metal door. An escaping 'hiss' told him everything that had happened – long before he could see the evidence himself.

The vault interior was much akin to the outside room. Food, water, books, medical supplies, and clothing were all stacked on one shelf. The rest of the shelves were filled with black, oddly shaped, plastic cases that ranged from the size of his fist to almost as big as himself. Through a glass window in one case, the ghoul could see what appeared to be a violin. No dust covered the glass. No dust on anything.

Charon's eyes were immediately drawn to a small twin-sized bed and he knelt beside it. There was no dust here, either. Not a spec of dirt touched what lay before him. Time had long since mummified the flesh to the bones and obscured the features, but it was still easy to recognize the remains of white hair and a woman's flowering gown.

Charon sighed and turned his head slightly, feeling an alien desire – a desire to have known this woman while she had lived. Never in the many years of his life had he felt this way towards someone found dead. Skeletons were often shoved aside – their bones clattering to the floor – in order to locate that laser rifle or the few jet canisters beside them. Never before had Charon seen a skeleton as a once-living person, and not as a decorative piece or a tripping hazard. This woman was special and would be treated as such. She would be one of the few to receive a proper burial – that Charon was certain. Reaching out, the ghoul touched the dried skin, barring his teeth in annoyance as it disintegrated at the touch.

Going back into the storage room, the ghoul eyed the many boxes stacked on shelves and tucked into corners. Dragging Olive's grandmother's corpse bit by bit outside would most likely cause his employer to have a more critical mental break. Charon could barely handle Ely as it was. What if she got one named Bubba?

Charon shook the thought from his head. "Fucking Smoothskin," he mumbled to himself as he yanked down an appropriately sized box. Inside were multiple copies of a book titled _How to Toot Your Flute_. "Fucking flutes." Taking a bit more joy from the act than normal, Charon dumped the box out on the floor. "Toot, toot, toot your flute. What a stupid name."

The ghoul continued to mumble about the atrocities called "flutes" as he lined the inside of the box with ripped bits of blanket. Once he deemed it padded enough, it was time to go after grandma.


	15. Chapter 15

"What happened to her?"

Charon glanced up at his employer from inside the hole he was digging. The girl's face was streaked with tears – an easy enough thing to spot due to all the grime that covered her – but she otherwise looked normal. No freaking out, yet. That was good.

As soon as the ghoul had appeared from the back room with the box under his arm, Olive had stared at him with deep, icy eyes. She knew her grandmother was dead, but having that unbreakable truth before her caused some sadness, and yet some comfort as well. To finally have closure was a powerful thing.

Wiping some sweat from his brow, Charon took the opportunity to rest a bit and climbed out of his hole. Digging in this hard dirt was a difficult thing to do, but he was glad to have found a decent shovel in one of the buildings. If it had rained recently, things would have been easier. At least it wasn't raining radioactive water anymore. Those first years of nuclear fallout had been a bitch.

Sitting with his legs inside the recently dug pit, the ghoul located his half-drank bottle of water. The sun had warmed it to a depressing temperature, but Charon wasn't one to complain. At least Olive wasn't one of those employers that made him drink piss. Taking a large swig of luke-warm liquid, Charon swashed it around his mouth for a few moments before swallowing and answering Olive's question. "There didn't look to be a struggle, so I can only assume she fell asleep inside the vault." He took another drink – tilting his head in the direction of the makeshift coffin. "She looked rather peaceful, really. I don't believe she felt any pain."

"But how could that kill her?" Olive stared at the box and swallowed heavily. Her grandmother was in there – and it wasn't a big box. Was she nothing but bones? How could Charon be certain it was her? Good lord, the girl wanted to open the container and look inside. The desire – the need – to look and see for herself was overwhelming. She wouldn't, though. Olive couldn't bear to see Grams in whatever state she was in.

Charon shrugged. "The thing's air-tight, kiddo. There's a handle on the inside that will open, even if the door is locked, but there's no ventilation shaft." He gestured towards the shop front, smiling slightly. "I'm guessing she spent a few nights in the shop – cleaning up the mess the initially bomb shock caused – putting things back on the shelves, and organizing. At night, your grandmother probably slept in the vault. On that final night, I bet something spooked her – people ransacking the nearby shops most likely – so she locked herself in and went to sleep without realizing the danger."

"It's a good way to die," Olive whispered, trying to ignore the tears that continued to roll down her cheeks. She couldn't seem to make them stop.

The ghoul had to agree. Out of all the ways to die, slowly suffocating while you slept was a nice one. No pain, no stress, not even realizing you're dying. You just drift off into death. If he was able to pick a way, it would be this one. Instead, Charon knew his fate. He would die struggling to keep his employer alive. Maybe Olive would be the one he fell for – or maybe a future owner. Was she really immortal? Were those pictures in the counter really of the girl that stood beside him?

The cannibal-filled town came to mind – Jack Smith and his wife. He never thought again upon his employers words. She had grabbed him – latched on like a child – and begged him not to leave. She didn't want to be alone anymore. Was she lonely? Everyone she met seemed to love her. How could such a beloved person feel lonely?

She was too pretty to be lonely…

A strange look suddenly crossed the girl's face and Charon tensed. He didn't realize he had been staring at her as he contemplated her past and present. Only – the ghoul realized – she wasn't looking at him. She wasn't aware of the scrutiny. Why was she further upset? Had the dam finally broken and the realization that her grandmother was dead slip through? _She is about to start sobbing,_ Charon decided. That had to be what that look meant.

Instead of freaking out, Olive focused on her companion. "I was going to come here sooner or later." Tears filled her eyes again – blurring her vision. "I don't think I could have done this without you. Charon...I..."

The ghoul held up a hand, hoping to stop the sob session long before it started. "Now is not the time, Smoothskin. You finish with the door and I'll finish the grave. I'll make sure to call you over before I'm done."

"But…"

Charon got to his feet and brushed his hands free of dirt before placing him on the Smoothskin's cheeks. He held her face – a small, soft, scared face – and stared into her brown eyes. "Be strong for me, Smoothskin, for you are very strong." Her body began to shake at the physical contact. He feared she would pull away – they had been making such progress with the 'icky ghoul' issue – but then she closed those brown eyes and cried against his destroyed palms. It broke his ancient heart.

"Come here, kiddo." Charon pulled the girl into a strong embrace. "Go on and cry. Come and let it all out."

And cry the girl did. It was almost as if every wall Olive had ever put up came crumbling down. She cried for her lost grandmother, her lost friends, and her lost family. She cried for those she had come to meet in her travels – those that had fallen while she walked on. She cried for those still imprisoned in Vault 64. She could never save them. She could never save anyone. The world kept turning and everything aged and changed, but Olive would forever march on. She was cursed to travel this world alone.

Charon held the distressed employer. Her legs had long sense stopped supporting her and her small hands were fisted in his armor. This was a new activity for him – comforting someone – but the ghoul found he enjoyed it. It made him feel so _human_. "Shhhh…Shhhh." He rocked her side to side, lightly bouncing her, as the child-caring instinct kicked in. "Everything's okay."

The ghoul wasn't sure how long he held her. Was it minutes? Hours? He wasn't certain. Dusk had started to creep across the plaza when Olive managed to regain control. She wiped her puffy eyes and mumbled soft thanks as he released her. "Will you be alright?" Charon whispered as he brushed a few stray tears away.

Nodding, Olive took one last look at the makeshift coffin. "We'll say a prayer for her. Grams would have liked us to do that."

"Do you know any prayers?"

"No," the girl's gaze rose to the cloudy sky, "but I don't think God or Grams will mind if I make something up."


	16. Chapter 16

***I'm hitting the end of what was pre-written. Due to this, updates will start coming more slowly. If anyone has any questions they want answered about Olive or what's going on, feel free to ask. I'll work it into the story for you. Also, the "Bard" part of the title will start making sense soon. It's a "working up to it" type of thing.***

* * *

Darkness had long since fallen outside the music shop, but Olive and Charon were safely locked behind the metal doors. Having preformed the small funeral and located the piano repair items for Moriarty, the pair was taking a moment to rest and enjoy each other's company while eating. They chatted about different strange people they had met in their travels and the subsequent fates of those individuals.

"I once met a guy who was in love with a mirelurk," Olive said around a mouthful of cram. "I swear he would sit on the shore and just jerk off watching the mirelurk hunt fish."

Charon rolled his eyes. "Now you're just making things up."

"No! No, I swear it's the truth!" The girl waved her arms in the air, hoping to help make the ghoul believe her. "This guy would sit there on a rock just rubbing his junk all day! It was the creepiest thing I'd ever seen!"

Shaking his head, the ghoul told one of his. "I had one employer that refused to ever let the sun touch her skin. She would dress in full black all day – even while indoors."

"Ug, why?" Olive imagined wearing nothing but black all the time. The mere thought of it made her sweat.

He shrugged, giving his box of cereal a shake in the process. "She read somewhere that the sun gives off radiation. Was scared to turn into a ghoul."

"So she just decided to never risk it?" Olive laughed at the idea. "Man, it must have been sweltering in that getup."

"She just randomly died one day of heat stroke, so yeah," he rolled his shoulders again, "I suppose so."

The girl leaned back in her chair, chuckling at ancient memories. "I could go on and on about the countless crazy people I've met through the years. The Gary's over in that vault. The husband and wife who thought they could train deathclaws. There's a small town out west that refuses to believe the bombs fell."

"We'll save those for a later night," Charon mumbled, suddenly becoming serious. "You said you would explain how you could be old enough to have your pictures in the front counter."

Olive took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was going to do it. She was finally going to tell someone everything. Would it help? Would 'getting it off her chest' provide her with some comfort? She didn't care anymore. It was time.

"I was born April 17, 2061." The girl decided to start off small and simple. Her date of birth often made her own head hurt. Had it really been that long? "My mom was named Janet and my dad was named Will. Dad was in the military, getting moved all over, and Mom worked with RobCo making computer systems and software."

Olive giggled, recalling an old memory. "When I was young, and before dad joined the military, mom and I used to be pretty close. Mom taught me how to hack computers. She used to be quite the revolutionist in her college years. I think she hoped I would be, as well."

"Anyway," the girl waved her hand, as though brushing the past away, "after dad joined the military, things changed. Since Mom was always busy now and Dad never around, Grams took care of me most of the time. She would babysit me after school, on the weekends, and any holiday that arose. Even when I was home with Mom, we never really hung out or anything or ate dinner like we used to." Olive smacked her lips together before rolling her eyes in anger. "Needless to say, Mom and I weren't close anymore. It became worse when dad was killed in action. I would go weeks without seeing her. I was still young at the time – an early teenager. Taught myself to cook and take care of the house. Mom stayed pretty much separate from me until Grams got all worried about the future and started talking about signing me up for a vault residence. Mom never liked me learning to play music, but she tolerated it due to Grams babysitting for free. But when Grams used her silver tongue to get me on the Vault 92 list, mom flipped."

Olive waved her hands above her head wildly. "Suddenly, I couldn't take a piss without her hovering over me! She even began to take an interest in my school work and was surprised to discover I had a solid 4.0 grade throughout my entire school years – all thanks to Grams' hard work. I think she got really jealous after that and decided she needed to take control of her teenage daughter's life."

For a long moment, Olive was silent as she fumed, and Charon gave the girl her space. She looked as though she wanted to hit something – repeatedly – and maybe blow it up.

"Mom changed my vault registry," the girl whispered with so much malice that the ghoul's remaining hair stood on end. "She decided I would do better in a vault for the 'scientifically minded'. Grams was pissed. Mom was pissed at Grams. I got shipped over to the Mojave so I could be close to my vault should the bombs fall. She never bothered to ask what I wanted. I wasn't a child, anymore. I was fourteen – fifteen? I forget.

"About two years later – just once I'm finally used to the weather – the nations decide to start throwing nukes everywhere, and I get sealed underground in my new, wonderful, beautiful, high-tech vault." Olive sat forward and grabbed a water bottle, giving it a good shake at Charon before popping the top off. "Oh, things were great for a few months, don't get me wrong. I was actually rather enjoying myself. We got to watch videos, play games, flirt with boys..." she winked, "even perform some scientific experiments for the vault residents to see. We never did get Pip-Boys, though." Olive looked at her new wrist toy for a long moment and whipped a smudge away. Maybe not getting the Pip-Boy should have been a heads up as to what was to come. The main scientists and leaders of the vault had Pip-Boys…

"The Science Division took a great interest in me and a few other young residents." She looked up, but Charon sensed that she wasn't seeing her surroundings. Her mind was far in the past. "We thought it was due to the experiments we performed, but that wasn't it. It wasn't until I broke free years later that I discovered it was because we were the handful of vault residents that didn't get sick soon after they gave the vault some 'anti-disease' injections. They hosted a dinner – just for us – and even let us have some beer, even though we were all underage."

She paused and let out another sigh. "They drugged us." Olive rubbed her forehead, ashamed she had fallen for such a thing. "Next thing I knew I was waking up strapped to a gurney. And there was this...thing strapped to the one next to me! I'd never seen a ghoul before so I thought they'd reanimated one of the few residents that had died since the vault sealed shut. It was crazy feral but the scientists didn't seem to care. They just kept taking injections from it and taking samples. When they injected a sample of the ghoul's blood into my arm, I fainted. No if, ands, or buts, I was out. I don't know all the stuff they did to me. I suppose I could read their medical logs, but I think I would rather remain blissfully unaware. All I know is I would wake up, unable to move, in a glass pod full of liquid. They would drain it, pull me out, strap me down, and start doing some weird experiments on me."

Olive pulled her legs up on the chair and hugged them close, as though the room suddenly became full of ice. For a long moment she stared at the floor, but then shifted her gaze upon the ghoul companion. "They did things..." The girl shivered, her breath hitching in her throat and her eyes quickly averting. "One time I woke up, already out of the pod. There was a bright light above me and people yelling. So much yelling. Someone was angry about something and I thought I should figure out what it was they were upset about, so I looked down across my chest to them."

Charon had never seen his employer get so pale. Tears had long since filled her eyes as she stared at the floor. He thought about asking her to stop her tale – to leave it for another time, but that's when she continued: "I could see _inside me_..." Wild, crazy eyes turned up to meet Charon's face. "I could see my heart, my lungs, my ribs." Olive grabbed at her chest through the fabric of her shirt. "They had cracked my breastbone open and were digging around inside me…"

She shot forward and grabbed the ghoul's armor, yanking him towards her. "Charon, I could see my heart beating!"

Charon shoved at the girl, throwing her across the room. Before he knew it, the ghoul was against the far wall with his shotgun out. He was afraid. Those eyes that stared at him freaked him the fuck out. They weren't Olive's eyes. They weren't Ely's eyes. They were pools deep into her twisted soul – into a part of her being that Charon never wanted to meet.

The girl did not get up. Instead, Olive remained on the floor, curled into a ball, and continued, "I think that's when Ely came. I don't remember the end of that scene, but the next time I was awake, the doctors were very nervous around me. The experiments began to blur together, but there was one thing I always noticed – my doctors kept aging."

"The main one, a Doctor Mios, was about forty years old when the vault sealed. He didn't have a spec of gray hair then, but after a while, I noticed gray hair, white hair, balding! The man was aging at a rapid pace, but I could see myself in the reflections of the metal and inside the glass of the pod. I looked the same. I was no different. At first I thought they were doing experiments on themselves, but then I heard a doctor voice recording some notes. 'March 14th, 2119' he said. 2119..."

"How did you get out?" Charon had put his gun down and now sat beside the curled girl. He had the desire to hold her and pat her back like other people did, but he was worried what affect it would have.

"An error," Olive whispered breathlessly. "One of the computers had an error in my life support feature. My pod popped open like a bottle of champagne and slushed me out into the room. I was cold, naked, and unable to move for almost an hour. There was a clock on the wall above a flashing computer bank. One of the old ones with hands that ticked at every movement." She grabbed her head as though in pain. "Tic-tic-tic-tic…"

"I'm not sure what happened to all the people in the vault. The place was clean, tidy, and no signs of struggle – but the only living things were those within pods like mine. Mutated humans, ghouls, and animal tests. A few were dead – their life support computers quiet and their bodies pale in the suspension fluid, but most were alive. It turns out I had been the only successful test subject out of the entire vault – that's why my computer was set to open my pod in the case of a malfunction. I was their golden egg and they didn't want me to pickle."

The girl suddenly shook her head, as though Charon had asked a question. "I never woke any of the others. The way they looked, I think they would prefer to stay dreaming until their computers went offline. Most I doubt were still sane or even able to survive outside their life support. There must have been more deaths in my absence. I'll have to record them next time I go back."

"So you just walked out?" Charon asked. "You woke up, looked around, and left?"

"No. Well, kinda. Just not quite like that. You see," Olive sat up against the wall, facing her companion, "I was the last living thing in the vault. The main computer terminal doesn't count the people in the pods. As soon as I left the lab, I ran into a security bot. I thought I was going to get blown up for sure, but it asked for name and vault identification number. It confirmed with the computer that I had not been labeled as deceased and checked my vault ranking to see if I was allowed to be in this restricted area.

"When the robot checked in with the main terminal, though, it also did an instant check on everyone else. It turns out the vault must have an Overseer if the vault is populated. Since I was the only person in the vault, I automatically got promoted to Overseer, given full data access, codes, and anything I could ever desire. My first line of business was change the outside door code. If my doctors had left, I didn't want them to come back. After that I just hung out for a few days – searching every inch of the vault for someone else who may have tucked themselves away."

Olive paused for a long moment and drank from her water. She wished for something much stronger, but Grams was never one for alcohol, and the pair carried only half a fifth of everclear for wound-cleaning purposes. As much as the girl wanted to bust it out and down the bottle, she knew better. The feelings would pass – just like they always had.

It wasn't long before Charon became antsy in her silence and desired more of the story. "So, what did you do?"

"It was 2167 when I woke up from my pod. I don't remember what month or day – they all started blurring together and I never thought to write it down. I'm sure it's in the computers somewhere. Anyway," she shook her head, "I stayed in the vault for a few months, but after a while I wanted to know about the outside. How badly had we blown each other up? Were people still alive? Was the outside still able to sustain life?

"So," Olive shrugged – much like a child caught doing something they shouldn't have, "I opened the big door."

"And?"

Olive sighed, exasperated. "And I began exploring. Hell, I was scared shitless, at first, but after a few trial runs, I was wandering all over. It also didn't take me long to learn how to shoot a gun. I had found a small one in the janitor's quarters of the vault. Learning that wasn't easy – especially if you have a charging rad scorpion coming after you, but I damn well learned how to do it!"

The ghoul grinned at his employer. He could picture her screaming and emptying a full clip into a rad scorpion. The creature most likely died after the first shot or two, but she probably kept shooting.

As Charon pictured a fledgling version of his employer, she continued to tell her story. "There was a small settlement nearby that consisted of just a few families and their two-headed cows." Two-headed cows. Man, that had freaked the girl out. "They knew right away that I was not from around those parts and thankfully took me under their wing. Bobby, one of the ladies' sons, taught me how to shoot a few different guns and how to track, butcher, and prepare just about any animal out there. I remember Bobby very well. I think I had a crush on him, but it was so long ago. They taught me the basics of surviving, and after the settlement got destroyed by some raiders, I began wandering. That's basically what I've been doing ever since. A few years ago, I decided to head back to D.C. and see what had become of my old home."

Charon went to the food stores and popped open a can of cram, giving the insides a nudge with his fork. "You plan on going back?" he asked over his shoulder. "To the vault, I mean."

"Yep," Olive replied – a bit more heartily than she expected, "it's nice out west because fewer bombs hit. Las Vegas still stands, ruled by Mr. House. He was a casino owner – or something – and used a lot of his wealth and power to protect Las Vegas from the bombs." She stood up and went to the ghoul's side, throwing her arms wide. "You should see it! The lights, the sounds, the excitement! It was much prettier before the bombs fell, but the place is still a gem."

With a mouth full of cram, the ghoul mumbled how the two of them should visit the place sometime.

"We will, Charon," Olive grinned at her companion. "But first let me teach you how to count cards."


	17. Chapter 17

Charon awoke that next morning in the store's vault. Before bed, the ghoul had wedged a box of books against the vault door to ensure it didn't seal shut on them. He had wanted to just take the door apart, but the smoothskin had vetoed that idea.

Speaking of the smoothskin...

Charon shot to his feet, looking about wildly. His employer was nowhere to be seen. Last night she had fallen asleep on the mattress – the same one her grandmother had died upon. "I've slept on worse," was her reply to his obvious disgust. Now, though, the girl was gone.

Images of raiders and super mutants sneaking in and kidnapping Olive began to form, but a quick realization of 'they aren't that sneaky' instantly calmed the ghoul. She had wandered off. The damn smoothskin could take care of herself.

Opening a box of cereal, Charon popped a few pieces in his mouth, munching on the tasteless bombs. Occasionally, a piece still had the sugar attached – a rare enjoyment. Most of the white powder had collected at the bottom of the box or absorbed into the container itself. Re-powdering the pieces never had the same pleasing results as those few surviving ones.

"I should get milk some time," he mumbled, squinting at a piece. "Never had it with milk. That's how it's supposed to be eaten." The smoothskin rarely drank milk. She said it tasted wrong. Mutated cows and all.

The ghoul sighed and dropped his box, replacing it with his shotgun. "I better go check on the girl. She may have fallen down a hole or something." Sometimes he really hated his training. He knew Olive was fine. Had something been wrong, she would have yelled.

But that 'what if?' voice in the back of Charon's head refused to let him relax. Normal people ignored this voice, but the ghoul could not. His training would not allow it. He stalked from the backroom, giving every passing shadow a long glance.

As expected though, the worry was for nothing, for Olive was just outside the store doors – enjoying the morning sun.

The ghoul scooped up a piano stool and brought it with him into the sunlight. Unlike his employer, Charon had no desire to sit on the decrepit concrete sidewalk. "Morning," he called, setting up his seat and sinking happily into the cushion. Leaning forward with his elbows on his armored knees, Charon gave the Smoothskin a small smile before looking out across the empty courtyard.

"Morning..." Olive's reply was hesitant and uncertain, prompting the ghoul's attention.

"It is morning, right? Or did I oversleep?"

The girl pulled her pale legs up against her chest. "No, it's morning."

"I never used to like mornings," Charon admitted, looking back out. "Night used to be my thing, but lately mornings have been pretty good as well. You think we'll head back today, or do you want to stay longer?"

Olive shifted uncomfortably. "I would like to stay one more day. There's still a few things here that I would like to look into."

Nodding and scratching at some dried skin on his cheek, Charon's eyes fell upon the newly made grave. "Flowers are put on graves, right?"

"Yeah."

"When I grabbed this stool," the ghoul tapped his seat, "I noticed there was a small vase with some faded cloth flowers in it. We could put them on her grave if you would like." Charon gave the girl another smile.

That was when he noticed the blatantly obvious elephant.

Olive was staring at him intently with a wild, confused, and scared glow to her eyes. In her left hand there was a torn rag damp with water. At her right hand sat a small bucket of semi-clear water. Other than the rag, no cloth touched Olive's skin. The girl was butt naked.

For once in his life, Charon was not scared of an employer's wrath. He felt so strangely at peace in the morning light that nothing could have upset him right now. And the girl before him, the way her skin shimmered and gleamed in the sun's rays was angelic. "You are very pretty," Charon commented with a soft smile before returning his gaze back out into the world.

Olive stared at her bodyguard, flabbergasted that a man was seeing her naked and not being aroused by it. For a moment, she was offended – believing that he did not find her attractive – but the four words he had said stilled her. There was no inflection to those words, no sense that they meant anything other than their meaning. They were calm, simple, and to the point.

Charon thought she was pretty.

When was the last time someone called her pretty? The girl couldn't remember.

Her heart swelled. "I'm glad Ely bought you."

The ghoul turned, startled by the words, but Olive was already silently retreating back into the darkness of the store.

* * *

"It's a roll-up keyboard," Olive said simply as she placed the item on the counter for Charon to see.

It was an odd device, no rounder than his fist, and colored a dark black. With a finger, the ghoul carefully unrolled the instrument and was welcomed by the sight of polished, white keys. He gave one a poke but no sound emitted. "I think it's broke," Charon said with a frown.

Olive sighed and glowered at the ghoul from under her long lashes. Sometimes she wondered about his pre-war status. Mumbling under her breath, she reached to one of the far ends of the instrument where the plastic and metal were thicker. With a simple press, the invisible speakers made a soft hum and a red light appeared.

Obliged to try again, Charon gave the keys another poke. What was left of his eyebrows rose due to the soft steady sound that began to emit. "Neat."

"It's a roll-up piano keyboard," Olive said again. "This end here is the power source. There's a uranium core – or something. Means it doesn't have to be charged and is portable – like the Pip-Boy. The keys never need tuning and it's water-proof too."

Charon took a seat at one of the counter stools and began tapping the different piano keys, replying again with, "Neat."

Olive circled around beside the ghoul and squirmed her way into his lap. "Let me show you how to play something."

The sudden, unexpected physical contact startled Charon and he froze, his mind scrambling into undesirable places. The girl continued and grabbed his hands, placing them on top of hers and spreading her fingers. "Just relax and pretend that my fingers are yours." Relaxing as much as a steel beam, Charon allowed his fingers to slowly tap out the tune to "Mary Had a Little Lamb".

"…Little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb," Olive sung softly to the tune.

He couldn't believe she was touching him. When did this change happen? Why wasn't she squirming and uncomfortable? This wasn't normal. This wasn't right.

Charon's thoughts drifted to the night before. Had sharing her past helped her reach a new level of comfortable with the ghoul? She was a ghoul – in a strange, beautiful way. Her skin would not rot and her hair would not fall out. She might not even go feral. The small woman sitting on his lap might survive to see the world rebuild itself. She might be the one who puts every brick in place. She might unite colonies and stop the fighting…

And she had such soft hands.

They were callused – a sign of her current life – yet still much softer than his own. Very tiny hands dwarfed by his. All the fingers in place and able to play such a wonderful sound.

The ghoul laughed heartily and began to sing along with the girl. He was over two-hundred years old and it was about time something finally worked in his favor. It was about time he was happy.


	18. Chapter 17 OTHER

*****Yeah, I know I haven't updated in a long while. I tend to write in bursts and when the mood hits me. If the mood doesn't hit, I don't write. If I try to force the writing, I end up trashing what comes out. It also doesn't help that I get the bursts for different little stories - so no telling when this one resurfaces. Technically, I started writing this story back when Fallout 3 was newish.**

**Also, for Shepard of the Damned, yes, Chapter 8 weirded me out too. After I wrote it and reread it, I quite simply went "wtf is this?" but it fit, so it stayed.**

**IMPORTANT: This was my first version of Chapter 17 but I changed it around due to me not liking where it went. Instead of just trashing it, I saved it. And since I haven't updated in so long, I figured I'd post it. For the future of this story, this version of this chapter never happens.**

**Remember, this story is rated M for a reason. This chapter is one of those reasons. Continue with caution.*****

"It's a roll-up keyboard," Olive said simply as she placed the item on the counter for Charon to see.

It was an odd device, no rounder than his fist, and colored a dark black. With a finger, the ghoul carefully unrolled the instrument and was welcomed by the sight of polished, white keys. He gave one a poke but no sound emitted. "I think it's broke," Charon said with a frown.

Olive sighed and glowered at the ghoul from under her long lashes. Sometimes she wondered about his pre-war status. Mumbling under her breath, she reached to one of the far ends of the instrument where the plastic and metal were thicker. With a simple press, the invisible speakers made a soft hum and a red light appeared.

Obliged to try again, Charon gave the keys another poke. What was left of his eyebrows rose due to the soft steady sound that began to emit. "Neat."

"It's a roll-up piano keyboard," Olive said again. "This end here is the power source. There's a uranium core – or something. Means it doesn't have to be charged and is portable – like the Pip-Boy. The keys never need tuning and it's water-proof too."

Charon took a seat at one of the counter stools and began tapping the different piano keys, replying again with, "Neat."

Olive circled around beside the ghoul and squirmed her way into his lap. "Let me show you how to play something."

The sudden, unexpected physical contact startled Charon and he froze, his mind scrambling into undesirable places. The girl continued and grabbed his hands, placing them on top of hers and spreading her fingers. "Just relax and pretend that my fingers are yours." Relaxing as much as a steel beam, Charon allowed his fingers to slowly tap out the tune to "Mary Had a Little Lamb".

"…Little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb," Olive sung softly to the tune.

He couldn't believe she was touching him. When did this change happen? Why wasn't she squirming and uncomfortable? This wasn't normal. This wasn't right.

Charon's thoughts drifted to the night before. Had sharing her past helped her reach a new level of comfortable with the ghoul? She was a ghoul – in a strange, beautiful way. Her skin would not rot and her hair would not fall out. She might not even go feral. The small woman sitting on his lap might survive to see the world rebuild itself. She might be the one who puts every brick in place. She might unite colonies and stop the fighting…

And she had such soft hands.

They were callused – a sign of her current life – yet still much softer than his own. Very tiny hands dwarfed in his own. All the fingers in place and able to play such a wonderful sound.

Halfway through the second time playing, Charon finally decided to jump.

Olive's humming to the simple tune as her fingers played the keys suddenly stopped as Charon's strong fingers curled in between her own – causing the instrument to hold a long tune. At that same moment, the ghoul buried his face in her crook of her neck, breathing in her scent deeply before planting a kiss on the girl's soft skin.

"C-Charon?"

"Hmm?" the ghoul inquired, feathering kisses down his employer's neck and across her shoulder.

"What…what are you…?"

He softly shushed her and freed one of his hands to turn Olive's face towards his. "You're very pretty," Charon whispered before pressing his lips to hers.

Olive couldn't move. Her mind was in so strong a state of shock that she honestly could not form an escape route. All she kept thinking was: _I'm kissing a ghoul._ Disgust vibrated down her spine and Charon groaned, pulling in tighter into his lap. It was at that moment that Olive noticed the raging hard-on she was situated atop. Had that been there when she sat down? The girl couldn't remember.

"Close your eyes," Charon instructed between kisses. "Close your eyes and relax."

Olive almost objected, her mind finally organizing itself, but then a large, callused hand gently flicked her breast and was her undoing. A soft moan escaped the girl's lips. Her eyes drifted closed and she allowed herself to slip away, enjoying the feeling of a man's lips on her own. The persona Olive had never actually been with a man. She had never felt the caress of strong hands – never had warm lips on her own. The experience was intoxicating and for a brief moment Olive wondered why she had always spurred Ely's advice.

Charon worked his tongue into the smoothskin's mouth and carefully coaxed hers into a fight. For a moment, she winced away, but the ghoul let a hand trail down the girl's side and she shivered, moaning again. The vibrations against his erect member made him gasp and he pulled Olive's back flush against his chest. Charon almost lost himself into the lust-filled fits Ely and he often fell into – but the ghoul knew he would have to be gentle. Clawing his way back to control, Charon stood and spun Olive around to face him.

The girl's eyes flared open at the sudden movement and she gasped, falling back against the counter with a hand over her mouth. Her lips tingled. She was out of breath. There was a ghoul in front of her. "Charon…" Olive wasn't sure what she wanted to say. She was baffled and confused – and horribly turned on.

"Shhhhh." Charon pulled her against him and chuckled. "I said close your eyes."

To his surpise, Olive obeyed. Her eyes drifted closed and she melted against his chest.

Charon kissed her again and gently lowered the girl to the ground. His hands roamed across his employer's figure, eliciting soft moans from her lips. Working a hand under Olive's shirt, Charon managed to finally get a fistful of soft breast. He yanked the shirt up and grasped an exposed nipple in between his teeth – working it gently with his lips and nibbling softly. She writhed underneath him, making the ghoul gasp each time she bumped against his hard-on.

With one hand free, Charon expertly tackled the familiar belt and pants – yanking them and underwear down long, tanned legs. Unable to stop himself, the ghoul undid his own pants, popping his penis free. He gave his member a few quick strokes and his eyes gazed across her near naked form. The damp curls between her legs, her toned stomach, and the chest that rose and fell with each labored breath. Olive's nipples were erect and as he stared at her breasts, they beckoned to the ghoul like flashing lights.

Charon eased the girl's legs farther apart and positioned himself between them. It took his full control to not roughly take her. Slow and steady, his mind whispered as he entered her. Slow and steady…

Olive groaned and rolled her head to the side, gasping for air. As the ghoul moved inside her, the girl's muscular legs curled around him and she arched her chest up. Inside, her body burned and screamed.

"Don't stop. Please don't stop," Olive breathed.

The exclamation made Charon chuckle and he leaned over the writhing body beneath him. "I won't stop. Don't worry." Instead, the ghoul placed a strong hand on the girl's hip – pulling her closer and allowing him to pump faster. Not wishing to crush her with his body weight, he propped himself up on his elbow and breathed heavily into her hair.

Olive opened her eyes at the increase in speed and deepness. To her shock, her vision was filled with ghoulified chest flesh. The girl blinked back a sudden flash of pleasure and tilted her head back, giggling.

Removing his face from the girl's brown hair, Charon cocked his head slightly towards her ear. "What's so funny, Smoothskin?"

"You're really tall."

Charon barked out a laugh and rammed Olive's hip flush against his pelvis, embedding himself to the hilt. "People say I'm big. Am I big everywhere Smoothskin?"

The girl convulsed under him, her fingernails dragging across his back.

Charon pulled almost all the way out, before fully sheathing himself again. He gave a breathy chuckle. "Well, Smoothskin?" Again he entered her as deep as he could go.

Olive couldn't form words at the moment. Instead, each time the ghoul thrust fully into her core, the girl let out a small scream. The intrusion hurt – there was no denying that – but the pleasure far overrode it.

"I can't hear you, Smoothskin. Scream louder for me."

Olive was more than happy to oblige. Soon the store echoed with her cries. The girl couldn't think. She couldn't control her body. She felt as though she was going to explode. Charon continued to thrust fully into her – increasing his speed with each pump.

"Fuck you're tight," the ghoul grunted, beginning to lose himself.

Olive desperately wanted something to hold onto. The writhing body on top of her was not proving to be enough. Something was forming inside her and she wasn't sure what it was. Fear gripped her for a second. Was it supposed to feel like this? "Charon, what is…? Oh, God. Charon, what's going on?"

"Damn, kid, don't tell me you've never masturbated before."

He never got his answer. The climax building inside the girl suddenly hit its peak and she dove over. Olive latched onto the ghoul, crying out and convulsing as wave upon wave of pleasure smashed into her.

"Fuck! Fuck!" Charon yelled, curling around the latching girl and grasping both of her hips tightly. "Fucking Hell that's tight. I can't stop. Fuck." White light seared across his vision as he suddenly came long and hard. The ghoul kept thrusting, allowing the silky insides to milk him empty. Ely never came like this. Ely was never this tight.

At first, the ghoul couldn't move – his forehead pressed heavily against the floor as he gasped for air. That, he was pretty certain, was what sex was supposed to feel like. You were supposed to end breathless and light headed from pleasure. As his vision cleared and the ringing in the ears subsided, Charon gently began to untangle the multiple limbs around him. First the arms, followed slowly by the legs. He knew she would be sore. Even Ely could only stand him at full length for so long. Once disentangled, he sat back and rubbed his face. Did that really just happen?

Olive shifted and cringed at the sore muscles and stinging pain. She sat up and quickly got slammed with vertigo.

"Slow and steady, Smoothskin," Charon mumbled, reaching out to catch the tumbling girl. "Let your head clear first."

In his arms again, Olive felt a strange urge as she stared up at his ghoulified face. She was pretty certain she was high but she liked it. Her hand came up and held his cheek, gaining and holding his full attention for a few long moments. "Charon…"

Charon gulped, fearing the worst. "Yeah, Smoothskin?"

"I'm going to kiss you."

"Oh…" his eyes darted across her face. "Uh, alright."

Olive sat naked on the small mattress as she watched Charon pack their belongings. She had watched him work many times before, but this time was different. This time she noticed the shifting muscles and the way he packed things with great care. The gentleness he used on her personal effects and how his fingers lingered a touch too long on her clothes. Was this new or had he always done this?

She shifted and hissed in pain, catching the ghoul's attention. He frowned at her – a look of worry deep in his features. "Are you sure you want to leave tomorrow morning? We can wait another day."

Olive shook her head, dead set on leaving in the morning. Being bruised was something she was used to, so there was no reason to make an exception now. Besides, she was rather fond of the current injuries. Her eyes traveled to her hip. From this angle, she could only see one round bruise, but she knew four more sat on the other side. The ghoul had grabbed so hard that he had left a five-point bruise on each hip. Naturally, he felt bad about it.

"Stop packing and come to bed."

Charon nearly dropped the small handgun he was stowing. He froze and ran the words through his head again. Did he hear that right? "What did you say?" he asked in clarification.

Olive rolled her eyes. "I said you should come to bed."

He eyed the mattress with the girl on top. "Whose bed?"

"Oh for the love of…" The girl crawled across the floor on her hands and knees, saddling right up against Charon's side. "Come to bed. My bed."

Charon absently pushed a set of clothes into Olive's hands. He wasn't sure what else to do. Ely never wanted to cuddle or talk or anything after sex. How did you even do that stuff?

"You want me to put my clothes back on?"

The accusation in Olive's tone immediately told Charon that he had made the wrong move. He swallowed heavily but made no other actions. This was very new territory for him and he was already breaking the local rules.

The girl fingered the fraying hem of the shirt, feeling a huge wave of depression flow over her. "You don't think I'm good looking?"

"You're beautiful," Charon stammered. "I just…" he looked at his hands, still holding part of the cloth. "I just don't know what I'm doing. This is all new."

Olive chuckled. "Same."

"Well, um…This is awkward."


End file.
